We are Warlords
by irishwoodkern
Summary: Set fifteen years in the future. Daryl and Carol have created a thriving community in the wilderness, but old friends and old enemies from the past return and they realise that they will have to fight to keep what's theirs.
1. Chapter 1

They called Fort Sophia a beacon of light in the enveloping darkness. For many, it represented hope and order in a world reduced to chaos. Legends had sprung up throughout the southern states about the community that seemed to embody all that was good in a land ravished by Walkers, gangs and misery.

People talked about Carol, the legendary figure who had founded the township along with her lover Daryl. Those who knew them revered them with an almost fanatical devotion. She – clad in animal skins with her silver locks trailing down her back – beautiful and formidable in equal measure. He – the hunter with his piercing stare, always astride a black stallion with a crossbow slung across his shoulders.

They had built the place from the ground up having abandoned Alexandria fifteen years before, leaving all that was left of the old world behind them. With guns, arrows and knives a small band of comrades cut a path through a jungle of walkers to find a safe place – a place they could call their own.

For Alexandria was no longer their home. Rick was no longer their leader.

Once Daryl and Rick had been as close as brothers, but a terrible feud split them apart, severing their bond forever. Daryl lost faith with his brother's leadership, while Carol was sickened with grief and turmoil over the vicious acts she had committed in the name of their group.

For them, there was only one choice: face the wilderness once more in the faint hope that they could finally create a viable community. The number they set out with had been small enough, but the journey was brutal between Walker attacks and the cruellest winter in living memory. When they finally made camp at their final destination, their numbers were drastically reduced.

It had been a farm once – a huge industrial operation raising cattle across thousands of acres. Now all the cattle had been run off or eaten and the buildings were a wreck, but it was a start. They began by foraging for food and supplies, building on the meagre rations that remained from their journey. The task that lay in front of them seemed impossible, but the group had the benefit of two leaders that had been tempered by war and hardship. Daryl's skills with hunting and Carol's organisational prowess allowed them to survive until the crops began to come through.

They caught wild horses and feral cattle and sheep and domesticated them, recreating over the course of a few years what mankind had struggled to do in thousands. When people saw what they were doing, they began to gravitate towards the small community, buoyed by whispers on the wind and a newfound spirit of hope. What caught people's imaginations was the rumour that unlike the other stragglers who survived the outbreak, Fort Sophia refused to truck with the gangs and robber bandits that roamed the countryside. Somehow, they managed to survive by cooperation and barter, returning to horsepower to travel and till the earth.

They built houses within the walls and external fences to keep the homestead safe, but Carol knew that it would not be enough. She knew that eventually a big enough herd of Walkers would charge through and destroy everything they had fought so hard to build.

Little by little, they sent out bands of riders to hunt the Walkers. They worked in teams, setting traps, herding them into smaller packs, picking them off until year by year, the Walkers became fewer in number and people seemed to be gaining the upper hand once more.

Now they only had to deal with each other.

Inside the township, everyone deferred to Carol and Daryl, though decisions both little and great were taken by the community. Their love for each other seemed to radiate outwards, encompassing all who chose to make the place their home.

Every night, Carol wrote the events of the day in the town leger, knowing that one day people would read her accounts and marvel that a small group of people could create civilisation while the world outside ran mad. Then she blew out the candles and slept soundly in the warm embrace of her mate, wrapped in pelts that Daryl brought home to his woman from hunting expeditions.

Since the Walkers had begun to diminish, nature began to take over again. Bears, mountain lions and wolves prowled the woods, threatening the townsfolk and the sheep that they brought to the mountain pastures during the winter. It was a struggle to keep both people and animals safe, whether from natural or human predators.

Despite their successes, their lives were by no means idyllic. While the last of the tradeable goods were being scavenged and fought over tooth and nail outside, they had to rely on hard work and ingenuity to survive. Maintaining everyone's health was the biggest problem. Carol had been able to relearn many of the old skills of herbal medicine, but diseases like measles and even typhoid began to spring up once more, almost wiping them out in the early days.

Still, people continued to pour through the gates, bringing new skills and new dangers with them. It was a massive learning curve, but the experiences learned on the road and in Alexandria taught them who to trust and how to keep people in line. Unlike Alexandria under Rick's rule, they were not a dictatorship ruled by the threat of violence – that was the most important thing.

One autumn morning, Daryl rose early to check the roofs and fences for damage caused by the previous night's storm. Trees had been uprooted and slates sent flying, but he calculated that he repair job would take no more than a few hours.

He greeted his friends as they went about their daily work. Over the years his demeanour had grown more open and he now bore himself proudly, his figure still strong and muscular even if his hair was streaked with grey and his face lined with age.

A smile creased his face when he saw Carl striding across the main square in his direction. He and Carol had more adopted children and protégés than they had fingers and toes, but Carl was the only one who truly felt to Daryl like a real son. Though his face still held the old sweetness that he always associated with Carl, he had grown tall and strong, hardened by life, but still retaining the same goodness that was uniquely him.

'Hey Daryl.'

'Hey kid.'

Daryl placed a firm hand on Carl's shoulder, the closest he ever came to an open display of affection.

'Kids ok?' he grunted.

Carl shrugged. 'Little one has a cold, but Millie thinks it'll pass.'

Daryl felt a swell of pride. He had always known that Carl was strong beyond his years, but could scarcely believe that the little boy with the sheriff's hat now had a family of his own. He always felt a twinge of sadness whenever he looked at the younger man, wondering how it could have come to this. Once Carl and his father were as close as father and son could be. He knew that it had broken Carl's heart to leave Rick behind and make the journey across the plains to Fort Sophia. Deep down, Daryl sensed that Carl was looking behind him every step of the way, waiting for his father to come and bring him back home again.

But he never came.

'Heading out?' Daryl said just to say something.

Carl nodded, just as he always did. It was his daily routine to take the cattle out to pasture beyond the inner fences and walls of the homestead. Every time he climbed upon his horse and checked his pistol, Daryl felt the same sinking fear that he might never see him again.

'Stay safe,' he said out of habit.

'Nine lives, remember?' Carl smiled back. He knew the story of Daryl and Carol by heart. It had been told to the townsfolk as part of their history to be learnt and remembered and passed on to new generations.

Daryl watched Carl as he made his way towards the cattle pens – his eye suddenly caught by a commotion in one of the guard towers overlooking the gate. As he made his way forward, he saw some of the townsfolk turn to see the source of the trouble.

Daryl whistled sharply to get the attention of Leroy, the man who had pulled the morning shift. 'Hey, what's going on?' he shouted from the base of the tower.

'We got company.' Leroy peered through the telescopic sight of the high-powered rifle that was mainly for show. Bullets were rare these days and were greedily hoarded by the warlords.

Fort Sophia's residents were by no means pacifists. They were highly skilled in combat, both at close quarters with staves, knives, clubs and swords, and from a distance with crossbows and longbows. The surrounding walls of the town reflected the world they were forced to inhabit, with watchtowers at regular intervals and medieval arrow loops for long range fighting. The walls were a combination of metal and woodwork fences, doubly and sometimes triply reinforced and covered with iron cladding wherever they could get it. It was a menacing sight to behold, and proof to all comers that they were not to be messed with.

'Well?' Daryl growled impatiently.

'Pick-up truck – heading down the main road to the turn-off. Looks like… single inhabitant.' He said the last part incredulously. These days, nobody travelled alone.

'Jesus!' Leroy suddenly exclaimed, sending a ripple of discontent through the small crowd of onlookers that had gathered. 'It's a girl!'

Daryl shook his head in disbelief. This girl had balls for sure, or she was completely insane. The main roads were crawling with marauders, and anyone who wasn't packing some pretty heavy heat was going to get pulled over. He was amazed she had managed to get this far without at least having her gas siphoned if she was very lucky.

His brain kicked into gear. There was no way she was alone – whoever she was with was probably parked on the other side of the rise waiting for her to give the signal to attack. He noticed that everyone was staring at him with fearful expressions, waiting for him to give an order.

'Stay alert,' he shouted up to Leroy, but it was meant for everyone, himself included. 'We'll see what she wants.'

Daryl waited – every muscle in his body tensed – until he could hear the sound of the engine coming closer. He was alerted to Carl's presence by a horse whinnying over his left shoulder.

'What is it, Daryl?'

'I dunno yet. Stay close.' Daryl realised with relief that the cattle hadn't yet been released from their pens. If things went south inside the walls, the last thing they needed was a herd of cattle stampeding.

'Identify yourself.' They heard Leroy shouting from the tower. 'State your business.'

Daryl heard the truck door open and shut and the sound of feet treading on hard-packed dirt. There was a moment of tense silence before Leroy spoke again.

'Hey, Daryl. You need to see this.'

Exhaling deeply to relieve some of the tension inside, he climbed up the wooden ladder to the top of the tower. Usually he relished the feeling of being at a height surveying the landscape that he had helped tame, but now he had to make a quick assessment of his surroundings. There was no sign of cars on the horizon, no indication of an impending attack. He looked down and saw the girl standing in front of an ancient pickup truck that had been reinforced with armour and covered with spikes.

Leroy nudged him with the rifle, urging him to look through the scope, but he didn't need to look. The girl was no more than sixteen or seventeen, her hair long and dark, with eyes that reminded him forcefully of her mother. She had the usual assortment of knives and guns at easy reach, but in her right hand she held a tattered old sheriff's hat.

Daryl laughed to himself – a bubbling laugh that came from deep within him. Shane was a damn fool, he thought. With her proud chin and the determined tilt of her head, she was every inch Rick's daughter.

'Hey there, Lil' Asskicker.'


	2. Chapter 2

Rick sat in his truck at the brow of the hill, his expression stony and impassive as he awaited Judith's return. He was confident that she could handle herself – after all, it was he who had taught her to fight and negotiate in equal measure.

'You ok, Rick?' Abraham asked from the passenger seat, his favourite rifle resting in his lap.

'Course,' he replied tersely. If there was even a hint of worry in his mind, he wouldn't allow his lieutenant to see it. He was banking on the knowledge that Daryl would never allow Judith to be harmed. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how bitter the rivalry between the two of them, Rick knew that Daryl had a soft spot for his daughter.

Everything depended on that fact.

He needed her to be the one who suggested a truce between the two communities. He knew Daryl – even after all those years he would still be suspicious of Rick and his allies. He couldn't have built up a thriving township like Fort Sophia without developing a measure of cunning. Still, Rick was sure that Judith would be his Achilles heel.

Rick couldn't help but feel impressed – even proud – when he heard stories wafting over the plains of this new town sprung from nothing but dreams and sheer determination. He knew that Daryl was not the mastermind of Fort Sophia. Though never dumb, he was blunt, headstrong and foolish at times but loyal to a fault – the perfect lieutenant. As the name suggested, it was clear that Carol was the brains behind the operation.

It was Carol who had turned Daryl against him – whispering treason all the while his back was turned. While he was on the cusp on domination – ready to seize power from the gangs – Carol was plotting to stab him in the back.

Together, they tried to convince him that it was his doing, that he had lost his ability to reason after Glenn's death at the hands of Negan. They were all wrong of course – he had never seen clearer than he did on that day. Negan was just another obstacle, just like the Walkers, just like the Governor and the Wolves. He was something that needed to be overcome using the only authority the world now knew.

Negan had taken something from them. What they needed to do to make sure that nobody was in the position to take what was theirs again. And if violence was necessary – then they would use violence. It was a means to an end.

There were enough people out there who hated the Saviours and their leader to hatch a plan to take Negan down. They did it swiftly and mercilessly, slaughtering the remains of the Saviours without mercy. In doing so Rick managed to make crucial alliances.

Rick knew that the people he was joining with were vicious murderers who would just as soon kill him as join him. However, he bided his time, using them to gain the resources he needed to make Alexandria the leading settlement in the southern states. They would be respected, and more importantly they would be feared. They would have the numbers to be able to control the Walkers that herded at the gates, and they would have the food and the fuel they needed to survive. What did it matter if they had to make a few Devil's bargains in the process?

He explained it to the group and the other citizens of Alexandria, and most were still afraid enough to follow him in everything. Not Daryl though. His moral compass would not allow him to band with thieves and killers, even if it benefitted them in the long term. He still chafed from Glenn's death. It seemed that when he died, so did the last link with what the group had once been and stood for.

The turning point came with Maggie's decision to remain at the Hilltop community to have her baby. Seeing the rest of them only brought back painful memories of everything she had lost. All she wanted was to make a new beginning.

Then, one day at a town meeting came the proposition. It seemed so pie-in-the-sky – the kind of illogical thinking that people were prone to back at the beginning of the outbreak. The kind that got them killed.

They had it all planned out too – their hundred mile voyage to find a prime piece of farmland that they had located on a map somewhere. It was sheltered, close to water, and reputedly had some of the most fertile soil in the country. They would take a bus and only enough fuel as could be spared, taking whoever wished to go and create a life on the new frontier.

What was even more incredible was the number of Alexandrians who were eager to follow – tired of their sheltered existence and leery of Rick's shady alliances. He hated each and every one of them for their betrayal.

What made it infinitely worse was that they managed to turn his own son against him. Carol had somehow managed to win him over by twisting and poisoning his mind until he no longer knew himself. That Carl was willing to leave behind Judith was proof of how much he had been hypnotised by their crazy scheme.

He knew the truth despite everything they protested, despite Carl's words that seemed so out of character.

'I can't live here anymore – I can't live with you!'

'You can't go,' Rick had shouted. 'I'm your father!'

'You're not my father anymore! My father would never do this.'

He recalled the gaping silence as those terrible words penetrated his brain. 'Do what, Carl? Protect my family – our home? What I've been doing since this thing started?'

'Not like this.'

Those words returned to him like an old song, worn with time but still catching his heart. He refused to believe it. After everything he had done for his son – for his family – trailing through the wilderness, killing, losing every trace of himself in the process, for it to come to this was unbearable.

Something broke inside him that day. He felt the last connection with his old self cut loose and wither away. He vowed to protect his people against all enemies – even if they included his own son.

Michonne was utterly heartbroken when Carl and the others left, and Rick was certain that she would have gone after them had it not been for one factor. She was pregnant.

Suddenly, all the fear and sadness she felt for the loss of her adopted family took a backseat to her flesh and blood child. The loss of her first baby made this pregnancy all-important to her. Now Jacob was fourteen and almost as tall as Rick, but he was still very much his mother's son. When Lucille came along a couple of years after her brother, Michonne managed to loosen up on her affections and allow Rick to play a larger part in their children's lives. Together with Judith and his new family, he was almost able to forget Carl's absence. Almost but not quite.

Years went by, and he succeeded in his plans to make Alexandria strong, but dealing with gangsters and robbers turned out not to be as profitable as he had hoped. He had failed to take into account that various cartels would take over oil wells, power stations, water and sewage facilities, rationing and distributing as they saw fit – creating their own bandit economy. They protected their turf with brutality and dealt in food, protection and often human lives.

Rick could not enter into their world without sullying himself. He had to square his conscience with giving the gangs what they wanted in return for what Alexandria needed. It was all done discreetly of course. If a kingpin wanted a rival removed in return for guns or manpower, then it would be taken care of. If a certain group required a certain number of women in return for a steady supply of pesticide, then Abraham would see it done. Every ugly necessity was factored into Rick's master plan of domination.

He neglected to consider that nature might not look favourably on their ventures. The last few summers had seen a drought that turned much of the surrounding land into an arid dust bowl. Desperation made people even meaner than before, so that any surpluses of food or supplies were hoarded with an even greater determination.

By tightening their belts and putting their heads down, the Alexandrians had managed to survive – but only just. Rick would never admit that they were just managing to keep their heads above water – it didn't quite fit with the mythology that he had created. People kept relentlessly moving toward Fort Sophia – even a few from Alexandria managed to break out under cover of dark. It meant that somehow the new community had managed to withstand the general deprivation, and he needed to know how.

He would approach them as a friend, gaining their trust and finding the intelligence he needed to gain the upper hand. Alexandria needed grain, batteries and fuel – if Fort Sophia had it, they wold find a way to take it by fair means or foul.

'Heads up, boss.' Abraham alerted him to the sound of an approaching engine, quickly followed by Judith's truck cresting the hill.

Rick let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. The truck drew alongside his.

'You alright?'

She nodded. He climbed out and joined her, knowing that this wasn't a conversation he wanted to have in front of Abraham.

'What was it like?' he asked, his voice gentler than he usually permitted.

'Big. Secure. Watchmen all over.'

Rick smiled to himself. She was never much for small talk – his daughter. Always so serious, so intent on giving him what she thought he wanted – needing his approval even though she would never admit it.

'You saw Daryl and Carol? How did they seem?' He was shocked to find that his breath hitched when he mentioned their names.

Judith looked at him quizzically, perturbed by his reaction. 'I saw Daryl. He seemed strong – cautious. Didn't give away much. Then I saw… him.'

Rick swallowed. 'You saw Carl?'

'From a distance.' Judith nodded. 'He was on horseback. Pity they took my weapons – I wanted to shook out his other eye.'

'Don't say that – ever!' Rick snapped. 'He's still your brother.'

Judith shrank a little in her seat, looking for a moment like the child she still was. Rick's expression softened a touch, suddenly realising the enormous responsibility he had placed on her young shoulders.

'Did they agree to talk?'

'They've invited you to dinner tonight. I can come, as well as an invited guest or bodyguard. No weapons will be allowed, and if they smell an ambush no quarter will be given.'

'No quarter?' Rick mused. 'They actually used those words?'

It wasn't like the taciturn Daryl to use such flowery language – more like Carol who seemed to have taken on the mantle of new-age warlord with a vengeance.

Judith was watching him closely, her dark eyes so reminiscent of her mother. 'What are we going to do, Dad?'

Rick felt his heart hammering in his chest as he drove down the road towards the entrance of the township. He climbed out of the truck and took in the towering fortress above him for the first time. He had seen it from the distance and heard about its imposing exterior from Judith. Nothing prepared him for the first sight of the high, barricaded walls and watch towers overlooking the surrounding land like an ancient siege castle. Tears stung his eyes as he stared up its heights. Never before had he seen something so magnificent.

He dismissed his fearful plans of a truce with Daryl and Carol – gone too were the distant schemes of revenge. Forget all dreams of peace and cooperation. Forget Alexandria.

It was clear to him now – he would take Fort Sophia.


	3. Chapter 3

Rick silently assessed his surroundings as he was frisked by a heavyset black man with a rifle slung over his shoulder. He barely looked at the man – it was the town he was interested in. Beyond the crowd of gawkers that had gathered to size up the three outsiders who were currently being unburdened of their weapons was a series of stock-pens filled with cattle and sheep. He reckoned there were a couple of hundred head of each by rough count.

His brain went into overdrive with all the possibilities. That amount of beef and wool would keep his people fed and clothed for a long while. The milkers would keep them supplied for a lot longer. A covetous smile crept across his face until his eyes fell on a young girl coolly observing him. She was slender and red-haired with a fresh complexion – surely no more than Judith's age. The realisation of what he would have to do to these people struck him with sudden force.

He thought of the old Rick – the one who lay awake at night torturing himself about morality, about how his every decision would affect others. He barely recognised himself in that old incarnation. Sometimes he looked back wistfully as if at an old friend, but mostly what he felt was pity. His former self was racked with doubt and insecurity – now he was cloaked in righteous certainty.

As he looked around him at the citizens of Fort Sophia, he knew in his very marrow that he could not live in the same world as these people.

And then he saw them.

The three stood at a distance in the midst of the milling crowd, but he would have known them anywhere. Carol and Daryl were side by side, and of the two of them Carol's transformation was by far the most extreme. He was tempted to laugh at the contrast between the frumpy housewife that she had styled herself back in Alexandria and the empress of the wilderness who now stood before him. His breath caught in his throat when he looked at Daryl – older but unmistakeable as the man who had fought beside him for so long.

His eyes fell on Carl and it was all he could do not to cry out. He felt Judith's eyes on him as he took in his son – so much older than when he had seen him last. He was taller than Daryl, with a strong, proud bearing. Gone was the youthful softness of his face, and in its stead there was a man who had seen suffering and turmoil.

He hesitated, trying to remain aloof, to restrain the overflowing love he felt at that moment, but against his will his feet moved inexorably towards his son.

'Dad?'

The emotion in Carl's face became clear as he approached, and without any hesitation or fanfare Rick grabbed him into a bone-crushing hug. He felt Carl holding onto him and suddenly the years slipped away. The bitterness and pain disappeared and all that remained was the two of them – father and son as they always should have been. He breathed deeply, feeling his heart break once more as he inhaled the familiar scent of his child's hair.

Eventually he pulled away, becoming aware of all the eyes watching the pair of them. He took the opportunity of examining Carl up close, suddenly conscious of the fact that they hadn't spoken yet.

'You ok?' he asked.

'Yeah, Dad,' he replied. 'I'm fine. How are you?' He let out a breathy chuckle, realising how pedestrian his words sounded after all the time that had passed.

Rick shared his laugh, relishing the moment. 'I'm great.'

He desperately wanted to take Carl aside and unburden himself of everything he had kept inside – to ask him every detail of his life, but he knew that this was not the time.

'Daryl. Carol.' He turned to each of them. 'Good to see you.'

'We're glad you've found us, Rick,' Carol replied. Daryl nodded wordlessly.

Something twisted inside Rick at her simple words of welcome, but he forced himself to push it aside, to harden himself against the knowledge that he would have to betray them.

'We've prepared dinner for you and your guests at our house,' Carol continued, reminding Rick strongly of her former motherly persona. 'Won't you come with us?'

The compound was even larger than Rick had imagined. Houses, farm buildings and work sheds lined a central roadway laid with a combination of cobble and brick – salvaged from who knew where. The buildings themselves were brick-built in places, patched with stone and roofed with corrugated iron or thatch. Other, smaller shacks were made from wood, with little consideration given to aesthetics but much to practicality. They were huddled together as if for warmth, the larger buildings giving shelter and protection to the smaller ones.

Even Rick could tell that this was a clear metaphor for the town itself. It was a place where weak and strong worked together in harmony – pooling their talents towards a common good.

It was beautiful. It was naïve. It was completely unsustainable and Rick would soon correct their mistakes. The social contact was a relic of a bygone age – now the survival of the fittest ruled. It was kill or be killed and Rick deemed it his job to ensure that his people always remained among the survivors.

They had reached the epicentre of the township – a beautiful old farmhouse that recalled Hershel's house with its old-world charm, but fortified just like the rest of the town.

Rick was contemplating the contrast between how impenetrable the place appeared from the outside with its essential vulnerability. A puff of wind could blow down some of these buildings, never mind what a Walker herd could do to the place – if Walker herds even existed anymore. He had heard stories of how these people had managed to control the Walker population and wondered for a second if there wasn't something good and right about this town despite its flaws.

Suddenly his heart almost stopped in his chest when he saw a pickup truck parked inside what appeared to be a makeshift garage. It looked clean and in fairly good repair and there was fresh mud on its tyres. He tried to catch Abraham's eye to make him aware of the implications.

The town wasn't completely devoid of machinery after all. If they had one truck, maybe they had more. If they had more, then they had a supply of gas. The place looked more attractive with every second that passed.

Carol fixed him with a curious look, as if aware of his internal machinations. She had always had the ability to read people – a talent he feared in her now.

'Come inside, Rick. You must be starving.'

The delicious smell of roast beef hit his nostrils and he almost groaned with anticipation. It had been years since he last tasted beef – probably not since the turn.

He felt unexpectedly overjoyed as he sat down at a long dining table with his children and old friends, awaiting a delicious meal. Homemade cider was passed around, a fire roared in the grate and dishes of meat and vegetables were ferried from the kitchen. They ate and laughed and made toasts and Rick was so happy to be there that he deeply resented the inner voice that intruded on his reunion, the one that insisted that this was all a ruse.

By the time they got to the cherry pie with cream, Rick was thoroughly sated, but his mind was alert to a subtle change in the atmosphere.

'Hey, Carl.' Rick bit the bullet and took control, not wanting to delay the inevitable any longer. 'Why don't you and Judith get reacquainted? Maybe you can show her the sights.'

The words were spoken to Carl but his eyes were trained on Judith's, silently telling her what was expected of her. Her mouth was tight and disapproving, like Lori's had been on those occasions long ago when he would be called out on police business in the middle of a family function.

Carl nodded. 'Sure, Dad.'

When they had left, the room became solemn and Rick and Abraham regarded their hosts as the adversaries they truly were.

Surprisingly, it was Daryl who broke the silence. 'So how's about we cut the bullshit and you tell us why you're here, Rick?'

Rick smiled at his candour. Then, right on cue, Abraham spoke.

'If you don't mind, I think I might step outside and do what the Lord intended. You got a bathroom that functions?'

Carol shook her head tersely. 'They sewage barons tried holding us to ransom about ten years ago, so we use dry toilets now. Good for the soil. The nearest one is next to the garage.'

She looked at Rick.

'I saw you eyeballing our truck earlier,' she commented. 'We keep some on hand for trading and emergencies. You might have noticed our rapeseed plantations on your way in. Corn oil works better on the engine, but it's harder to grow in this soil.'

Rick was impressed at their ingenuity but quickly dismissed their methods as impractical in the wider world. Alexandria relied on trucks for scavenging and negotiating with the gangs. They had become something of a police force in the area, managing squabbles and making sure that the gangs didn't stray too far out of line. He couldn't imagine doing his business from the back of a horse, or pouring vegetable oil into his engine in the middle of a Walkers fight.

'I'll leave you folks to it.'

Abraham stepped outside, letting Rick weave his tale like Scheherazade of old, delaying them while he went on his own mission. He felt the chill night air on his face, awakening him from a haze of warmth and friendship and alcohol. After relieving himself in the dry toilet, he slipped through the shadows, using his military training to avoid the few humans that patrolled the town at night.

He made for the barn – by far the largest building in the town – standing beside a towering grain silo. Now was the time to discover what this place was really about.

The barn was unlocked, and as soon as he crept inside he knew why. The place was completely empty – there was not a stalk of hay inside the lofty building. Instead of stores of winter fodder, he discovered rows of wooden benches and chairs before a dais and lectern. The barn had been adapted from its original purpose to a makeshift chapel and meeting house.

Abraham felt a terrible fear grip his stomach. Something was very wrong here. There was no doubt in his mind that the grain silo was similarly empty and that the display of abundance at the house had been a show for their benefit. They had clearly not escaped the effects of the drought, and yet the cattle they had seen in the pens did not seem starved. It was a mystery that he was determined to solve.

He went deeper into the barn, seeking some explanation for the discrepancy. If they too were starving, then what advantage could come of pretending otherwise? What did they seek to gain from them?

The floorboards creaked under his feet and as he shifted his weight, dust cascaded down through the cracks between them. He listened carefully, experimentally pushing more dirt through the floor. In the dead silence, he heard the grains of dirt landing on a surface somewhere beneath him.

He smiled. Everything was not as it seemed in this town. It took him several more minutes to locate what he was looking for, and he could only hope Carol and Daryl thought he had got lost or was suffering from the aftereffects of too much rich food on an undernourished stomach.

He pulled on the iron ring and opened a trap door barely concealed beneath the edge of a frayed old rug. Descending a wooden ladder, he pulled out the precious torch that he had swiped from a doctor's office years ago. He only used it for emergencies, and this was definitely one of those, entombed as he was in an underground place where no light penetrated.

He shone the torch into the darkness and saw that he was in a tunnel that appeared to go on forever. On each side were rooms that looked suspiciously like prison cells, complete with heavy doors. He briefly wondered what purpose they once served as he crept along, peering through open grates to see what they concealed.

His former smile broadened into a bold grin as he beheld endless rooms of grain, vegetables both fresh and pickled, cured meats and everything that could sustain a town of this size for years. Like good survivalists, they had carefully rationed their supplies in the good times, storing up for the bad.

Just as his brain was calculating how fast he could get this information to Rick, he heard noises in the darkness that chilled his blood. There were faint but unmistakeable groans, and they were coming closer.

Walkers. Those sons of bitches had Walkers down here.

No wonder the barn had not been secured – no lock was needed when they had the world's best guard dogs protecting their food supplies.

He retreated as quickly and quietly as he had come, just closing the trap door behind him when he heard a footstep. He swung around, ready to fight his way out with his fists if necessary, when he saw Carl's face in front of him.

'Abraham? What are you doing here?'

Suddenly, the barn filled with people.


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as Abraham had left the room, Carol turned back to Rick and fixed him with her piercing blue stare.

'It's been a long time, Rick – a real long time. And yet sometimes it feels like only a week.'

Rick raised his glass in a silent toast.

'I think about you a lot – about all of you.' A look of profound sadness and regret passed over her face. 'I heard Maggie is doing well. Have you seen her?'

'I have – last winter. The kid's strong and healthy. Looks just like Glenn, but I swear I see Hershel in him too.'

Maggie had changed profoundly since Glenn's death. Having lost all of her family, she took comfort in the religion that she had rejected on her father's death. There was a solemnity in her that was so unlike the vivacity that she had once exuded. In the absence of her husband, the losses that she had endured became like a dead weight that only her faith could alleviate. Other than her child, it was the only thing that made her life worth living.

Almost imperceptibly, Daryl's hand crept into Carol's lap and clasped hers tightly. Their movements spoke of a silent communication – as if their minds and hearts were tightly bound together in some mysterious way.

Carol and Daryl's personalities had always seemed diametrically opposed. Rick used to think that Daryl was volatile and hurt like a puppythat had been kicked too many times, while Carol was hard and jagged like crystal that had been smashed into razor-like shards. It amazed him that they had managed to latch onto one another and stay together in spite of everything.

Carol and Daryl. Glen and Maggie. Rick and Michonne. Even at the end of the world, love still survived and conspired to make miracles happen.

'What do you want, Rick?' It was Daryl who asked the question, much to Rick's surprise. 'I've enjoyed playing getting to know you games, but sending your daughter to our door was a ballsy move.'

'Or a desperate one,' Carol interjected.

'I ain't gonna deny it – we're in a bad place,' Rick replied in his lazy drawl. 'The drought's hit us pretty hard, which is why I'm surprised y'all are bearing up so well.'

An impenetrable glance passed between the couple on the other side of the table. Rick felt out of practice with them – he used to be good at reading their tells. He hoped Abraham would hurry up and get back to him. He needed to know how he should play this – if he should try and appeal to their sympathies or maintain his confident façade. Either way, he needed their trust.

If he could persuade them that his people outnumbered and outgunned theirs, then perhaps bloodshed was avoidable. They would be willing to hand over control of Fort Sophia without a fuss. One look at their steely and unsmiling faces told him that such thoughts were foolish. They would only cede control of this place if he prised it from their cold, dead hands.

'Alright.' Rick leaned forward and interlaced his fingers on the table. 'Let's deal. My people need grain, milk, meat – anything you have to offer. In return, you'll have our protection, our guns. Bullets when we can get them, gas when we can spare it. Pesticides and fertilizers for your crops – they'll increase your yield by 50%.'

Even as he spoke, he saw a knowing smirk on Daryl's face and wondered if he had made an error.

'Ok, here's our deal.' Carol stared at him unflinchingly. 'We'll give you what you need as long as our harvests continue to be good, and in return… you go straight.'

Rick froze, trying to process what he had just heard. Surely she didn't mean what he thought?

'Meaning?'

'Meaning no more dealing with gangs,' Daryl supplied. 'No protection, no trading, no robbing – cold turkey.'

It occurred to Rick with horror that he must have a traitor in his ranks. How else would Daryl know so much about his dealings? Then again, it was hardly a secret. Hell, he had pretty much advertised his ties with the various barons and cartels all over the southern states. Everyone needed to know who was in charge and that he was not to me messed with.

Now they were asking him to give it all up – all the power and influence he had accumulated. Sacrifice the comforts of civilised life – flush toilets, gasoline – and for what? To live like hermits behind a high wall? To scrabble in the dirt like peasants? No, he had worked too hard for that.

'Rick?' Carol fixed her inscrutable gaze on him again. 'Are you with us?'

There was no way he would acquiesce to their wishes. He would take Fort Sophia and make it into the image of Alexandria, only on a much bigger scale. The gangs would learn to fear him, and then soon he would take over. It would take an army to gain power over all the barons of the southern states, but he had grand ambitions.

For now, everything depended on him appearing to be their ally. Seconds ticked by as they awaited his reply. He opened his mouth, ready to tell the lie that would surely send him down a path of no return.

A noise outside caught his attention – raised voices and footsteps – the unmistakeable sound of a gathering crowd. He recognised the fear that lay beneath it and knew from bitter experience that panic and mob mentality would inevitably follow.

Carol and Daryl were already on their feet and in a few seconds Rick was following them outside in the direction of the barn. They pushed their way through the throng and Rick felt sick when he saw the source of the commotion.

He saw Abraham facing off against Leroy – the man who had patted Rick down on his arrival and removed his weapons. Abraham held Carl in front of him – one strong arm firmly wrapped around his neck. Leroy stood several feet away, a huge buck knife held against Judith's neck.

Daryl stepped forward. 'What the hell is going on here?'

'Carl caught this guy was snooping around the tunnels and then he grabbed him,' Leroy snarled.

'You better let her go, pal.' Abraham tightened his grip on Carl's neck.

'You first, asshole!'

'Rick!' Daryl turned to him. 'Call off your guy.'

'Abraham!' Rick shouted. Panic gripped him, but at the same time he felt a curious clarity. He saw the possibility of gaining leverage over Carol and Daryl – if only he could depend on Abraham go be the bad guy. Both of them knew he would never be able to choose between his children, but if Abe continued to go rogue, then his plans had a chance of succeeding.

Rick grabbed Daryl by the vest. 'Tell him to let Judith go!'

Carol stood by, her arms folded. 'No. You won't let him hurt Carl.'

'I'm gonna do it, Rick – he's one of them,' Abraham shouted. 'I swear to God I'm gonna break his neck!'

The crowd watched in horrified silence, barely breathing as the scene unfolded in front of them.

Carol addressed Abraham. 'You really think we're gonna let you walk out of here, Abraham? We'll kill you first.'

'But then Carl will be dead.'

Rick felt a sudden twinge of uncertainty, unsure of Abraham's plan if this went wrong.

'Carol!' he said, the desperation in his voice only slightly exaggerated. 'Abraham won't stop! You have to give this up – let's not let this escalate out of control.'

'You started this, Rick,' she replied venomously. 'You came here and betrayed our hospitality. I know you – you took one look at this place and decided you were going to have it. Just like Jessie – just like Alexandria. But I won't let you take what we've built here and make it dirty. You haven't earned that right, Rick, you don't deserve it. You're not a man of honour. You're nothing but a thief – a robber baron.'

Rick scrutinised the group of townspeople that stood behind them. He realised that these people would do anything for this town and the people who had built it. For so long, he had despised the fanatical devotion that had led the Wolves and the Saviours to commit whatever horrible acts their leaders required of them. Deep down, he believed that human beings were better than that. Watching these people and the love and devotion they displayed for each other and this place, he wondered if he hadn't miscalculated.

'Who do you think you're dealing with here – sheepherders?' Carol demanded. 'You're wrong. We're warriors – we're warlords! And by God we will fight to the death to defend this place.'

The look in her eyes was terrifying in its intensity, and something inside Rick told him that he had already been defeated. As much as she obviously loved Carl like a child of her own, he had gravely underestimated Carol's determination. He turned to Abraham, fully intent on telling him to let Carl go. In truth, they had lost nothing. They would find the fuel and food that they needed – beg, steal of borrow if necessary.

Abraham was having none of it. He kept a firm grip on Carl. 'We're walking out of here,' he barked.

'Abraham!' Rick said again, his voice trembling.

Out of the corner of his eye, he felt this breath catch as spied Leroy drawing the knife closer to Judith's throat. He noted the hesitation written across Leroy's face. He was not a cold-blooded killer – neither was Abraham but these people didn't know that.

'We're walking out of here!' Abraham repeated. He started to move, keeping his back to the wall of the barn. The group at the door shifted like frightened sheep.

'Daryl?' Leroy looked to his captain for guidance. Daryl held up his hand to stall him.

Rick was sorely tempted to make a grab for Judith but he knew that he didn't stand a chance against the larger man. One false move and Judith could wind up dead. As strong as she was and as unused as Leroy clearly was to killing, trying to catch him off guard could mean a death sentence for his daughter.

He knew that he had only one choice. Catching Judith's eyes, he tried to tell her without words that he was sorry, that he would be back for her and he needed her to stay alive until then. His heart slumped in his chest when he saw the look of contempt and betrayal in her icy stare.

As he followed Abraham out of the barn, he tried to maintain the look of helplessness that he had assumed until then. He continued to play the role of the powerless father, caught between two impossible choices – which was mostly true. There was a part of him that hated Abraham for taking his choice away, but there was another part of him that was grateful to him for taking the wheel and doing what he couldn't.

As Rick trailed after Abraham as he dragged his son through the compound, he tried to subtly guard his lieutenant's back. Even though he was unarmed and could do little to defend himself if attacked, he needed to maintain the front that Abraham would kill Carl if he had to.

Rick didn't want to think about the possibility that Abraham might do what he threatened. Thinking back, he felt guilty for cutting Carl out of his life so publically. He should have known that Abraham, his loyal second-in-command, would believe him so literally. He was trying to create a façade of stoicism at his son's abandonment, but it was only when he heard Judith's callous comment about Carl's eye that morning that he began to realise how deeply his words had affected the people around him.

As they approached the gate, several men and women appeared brandishing weapons.

'Open the gate!' Abraham shouted. 'Let us leave or we'll kill him!'

The guards looked at each other, unsure of what to do until a clear voice rang out from across the square.

'Stand down!' Carol stood there, flanked by Daryl on one side. Leroy stood at her other shoulder, holding Judith tightly.

'Give them their weapons and let them leave. We have a hostage.' Carol regarded Rick with an unforgiving stare. 'Take your boy and go. You know our terms. We won't back down.'

Their weapons restored to them, they retreated back to their trucks and met up with the convoy beyond the crest of the hill. After a brief discussion with his men, Rick decided to waste no more time before returning home. It was dangerous to drive at night, but Rick was too keyed up to sit there until morning. They would muster all the people and weapons they could lay their hands on and make a full assault on Fort Sophia.

Rick drove at the head of the convoy with Carl in the passenger seat beside him, while Abraham sat glowering in the back. He was unprepared for how he would feel at being so close to his son after all the time that had passed. For his part, Carl appeared shaken and quiet. Rick had hoped that their happy reunion would mean that they could pick up the threads of their lives again, but now he wondered if his son would be able to forgive him for everything that had gone down.

Shortly before dawn, Rick sent scouts out on motorbikes to scope the road ahead of them. There was a particularly dangerous stretch of highway just outside Alexandria that was notorious for ambushes, and he liked to be prepared.

As soon as they cleared the forest road, Rick's heart almost stopped when he saw smoke billowing above the treeline near the entrance to their home. He gunned the engine, spinning the wheel and sending the convoy into confusion as he drove off the highway and across the fields in an attempt to cover ground quickly.

He needn't have hurried. As soon as he arrived, he saw his scouts sitting helplessly on their bikes or on the ground as they watched their worst nightmare coming true.

Rick jumped out of the truck and ran towards where the gate had stood. The faces of Michonne and their children appeared in his mind as his past and his future was ripped from him.

The fences were down. It was already over.


	5. Chapter 5

It was close to midnight when Daryl found Carol atop the battlements as a group of men readied the fortress for the inevitable onslaught. She was deep in conversation with Brian, one of their chief security men, who was in charge of the operation. She looked magnificent – eyes glittering in the orange torchlight and cheeks glowing with excitement – but damn was he pissed at her.

'Can we talk?' His intonation was no more gruff than usual but his irritation was clear. She excused herself and ducked into the unoccupied East Tower, followed closely by Daryl.

'What are you doing?' he asked when they were finally alone.

'I'm overseeing the repairs – making sure we're prepared for what's coming.' Her voice was matter-of-fact and unapologetic.

'What was that all about in the barn, huh?'

'We had to make a stand – Abraham had Carl…'

'I could'a talked him down. I could'a handled Rick, but you talked war and that was all that anybody heard after that.'

She shrank a little at his words, knowing that he was right but holding firm in her determination not to back down. 'This was going to happen eventually, Daryl. We were always going to have to defend this place sooner or later…'

'I'da preferred later. Are you really ready to fight them, Carol – our family? To kill Rick and all of them?'

'What's stopping Rick from turning into another Negan? Another Governor?' she countered. 'Maybe it's time we taught him a lesson.'

Daryl flung an arm wide, encompassing their little world. 'Is this the time and place for that? We got families in here, kids…' He paused. 'And what about Judith, huh? Are you strong enough to kill her too? 'Cause that's what you led us toward when you took her hostage.'

A look of pain and turmoil crossed over Carol's face. The conflict between her role as leader and her instincts as a mother tore her up inside. Every child in Fort Sophia was an avatar for her lost daughter, a reminder of her enormous responsibility to protect the people under her care.

Daryl felt guilty, knowing that children were Carol's Achilles heel. It was a cruel tactic, but he had to get her to see sense.

'That's why we built this place, ain't it? So people would have to kill anymore – so people could be safe.'

The statement hung in the air for a long time. It was a long speech for Daryl, but over the years he had gradually found his voice and become more articulate. It was as if the challenge of running Fort Sophia had unleashed the leader within him.

Eventually Carol spoke. 'What do you suggest we do? Rick will do anything to get Judith back. And we know the unsavoury people he associates with.'

'Lemme talk to him. I know Rick – he'll go back to Alexandria to regroup and figure out his next move. I'll take my bike and be there by morning.'

'Your bike?' The implications flitted through her mind.

Daryl had built the bike from scratch and lovingly kept it in repair, despite the fact that it was forbidden. It was the only vehicle that they hadn't been able to convert to vegetable oil, and he was only able to persuade her to keep it on the grounds of emergency. Having a gas-powered vehicle in Fort Sophia was dangerous for morale. It would give people ideas and make them doubt one the central tenets of the settlement: gas was wasteful and destructive – a relic of the old world and a major cause of strife and conflict.

Carol knew that if Daryl rode out on his hog it would be obvious to those who weren't already aware that trouble was on its way. Panic would rapidly spread throughout the settlement. However, Carol knew that her partner would never be able to live with himself unless he did his level best to prevent bloodshed.

'You can't go out on your own. You could be ambushed by bandits or Walkers –'

Daryl accepted her tacit acceptance of his plan with a curt nod. 'Leroy can ride with me. We can cover more ground and watch each other's backs. We'll be back tomorrow.'

'If something happens to you…'

'It won't,' Daryl replied. 'Nine lives, right?'

Carol reluctantly nodded, and Daryl leaned in to kiss her. She still tasted of cider and cherries and he was quietly amazed that she was still able to set him aflame after all these years. The thought of returning to her sustained him on his many trips beyond the walls to barter with the other communities or tend the animals. He would imagine falling into bed with her soft and warm beside him – the one thing that made all the toil and frustration worthwhile.

He remembered how they finally came together in the Kingdom after Glenn's death – how easy and natural it had been despite all the pain and grief, all the doubt and hesitation. He had not intended to make a confession of love, merely to voice a tribute to Glenn, of how he was the best one of all of them, admitting that he had envied his relationship with Maggie. Their love made them stronger – gave them a reason to fight, to stay human and carry on. Neither he nor Carol knew who moved first, but suddenly they were kissing.

He was pulled out of his reverie by the sight of Carol looking back at him, her expression one of implacable determination. 'You'd better be back by sundown. Otherwise I'll come to Alexandria and bring the fury of hell down on Rick and all of his people – I swear by Christ I will.'

Daryl felt a little unnerved by her intensity, but at the same time her words stirred his blood. He felt eager to get back to her so they could be alone and leave the madness of the world outside.

He blazed out of the front gates on his cycle, rousing people from their huts in confusion. Carol climbed down from the balustrade to calm the gathering crowd.

'Go back to your homes. There'll be a meeting in the morning where everything will be explained and discussed.'

Carol saw a distinctive mop of brown curls in the middle of the departing and sighed with irritation. 'What are you doing out here at this time of night?' she asked the little girl.

'I couldn't sleep, Ma.'

'I'm not your Ma. Catherine and Paul are your parents now, remember?'

Pip stared at her, two fingers shoved childishly into her mouth. A little over a year before, Daryl had found the girl out on the road and brought her back to Fort Sophia. She was half-starved and feral, but Carol guessed from her height that she was about six years old. It took a while for her to speak but when she did she offered no information about herself or where she had come from. They had no idea where her parents were or how she had managed to survive on her own.

Daryl called her Pipsqueak, and somehow the nickname stuck. Despite Carol's best efforts, the child became attached to the pair of them, even after she had been placed with a childless couple nearby. Carol had gladly acted as surrogate mother for any number of kids in town, but Pip was different. Every time she looked at the girl, the memories of Sophia became too painful to bear.

'Back to bed now, you hear?' Carol tried to maintain a stolid exterior, even as her heart went out to the child. 'I don't want you under my feet.'

'Ok, Ma.'

Carol smiled to herself as she watched Pip trotting back towards the clapboard house where she lived with her foster parents. When the girl was safely inside, she turned on her heel and headed for Carl's place. It was one of a row of bungalows that had once belonged to farm workers on the original property. Since his marriage to Millie, Carl had done a lot of work on the place, making it into a comfortable home for their young family.

Carol gave a cursory knock on the door before entering. She felt a little foolish for standing on ceremony when Carl was almost like a son to her, but she made it a point never to throw her weight around as leader of Fort Sophia. She found Millie standing in the middle of the kitchen with a slightly helpless expression.

'I shouldn't have put this on you,' Carol said with an apologetic smile. 'Especially with the baby so sick. It's just that you're the only one I can trust with her.'

Millie's shoulders slumped and she burst into tears. Carol put her arms around her, suddenly realising the enormity of what she was facing.

'Sorry,' Millie sniffed. 'It's just too much. First the baby and now Carl…'

Carol fixed her with a look that projected both consolation and authority. 'Carl is going to be fine. I know Rick – he'll die before letting anything happen to his son.'

The younger woman dried her eyes, buoyed by Carol's words and a little ashamed of her own display of weakness. 'You want to see her?'

A guard had been posted at the door, but otherwise security was kept to a minimum. Carol was surprised – even a little disappointed – to see that Judith hadn't even attempted to jimmy the lock on the window. Instead, she sat on the bed with a closed-off, unreadable expression.

'You look so much like your mother. It takes me back,' Carol commented wistfully. It was a partial fib, a ruse to encourage the girl to open up. In truth, she rarely thought about those early days after the world changed. The memories were too difficult to dwell on.

There was no response from the sullen girl. She focused on worrying a patch of peeling skin on her thumb.

'I hope Millie's been treating you well.' Carol's eyes fell on the untouched plate of food that lay on the bedside dresser and her tone immediately hardened. 'We don't tolerate waste here. I don't know what it's like in Alexandria, but here people labour hard to grow food. Millie cooked that for you.'

'Do I look like I care?' Judith retorted.

'You're in your brother's house – you should treat it with respect.'

Judith's expression registered such spite that Carol was taken aback. 'Respect? Where was his respect when he left?' She looked embarrassed the moment the words left her lips, as if realising how petulant and childish she sounded.

Carol sat down at the edge of the bed, gently sighing. 'Carl had his reasons for leaving – we all did. He and Rick couldn't live together anymore. I know it's hard for you to understand.'

'You think I don't understand?' Judith's eyes lit up with anger. 'I know what Dad's like – I have to live with him. Carl left me to deal with him alone.'

Carol was astonished. Ever since Judith's arrival, she had assumed that her resentment of Carl was of a piece with their father's. Realising that she and the girl might be on the same side was a relief, but it was troubling at the same time. She was ostensibly their prisoner. Carol wondered if she would have the strength to do what was necessary if things went wrong.

'There's a photograph at home of Carl holding me as a baby,' Judith said sadly. 'Dad used to tell stories about the times before Alexandria and they were all about Carl. I used to ask people who knew him to tell me stories – Enid, Rosita, even Abraham. Nobody understood, not Dad – not even Michonne.'

'But you have a brother and sister, right?'

Judith shifted uneasily. 'I love Jake and Lucy, but they belong to Dad and Michonne – I hardly get a look in. I wanted Carl there so badly that I started hating him. And then seeing him today… he was just like those stories – kind and sweet. I felt like he must have loved me.'

'He did, Judith, believe me.' Carol placed a hand on the bed between them, trying to foster the growing trust between them. ' I saw how he was with you as a baby. It tore him up to leave you – it was one of the reasons he was so committed to being here for his kids. He's a really great father.'

Judith shyly glanced at the older woman for the first time. 'I don't think my Dad's a good person,' she confessed. 'He does business with bad people. I'm afraid of them.'

Carol felt a tug at her heart followed by a sudden, crazy impulse to protect the girl. 'Judith, do you want to stay here with us?' she enquired.

A tiny spark of hope appeared in Judith's eyes before being quickly extinguished. 'Dad wouldn't allow it. He needs me.'

'It's your choice – only you can make it. Leaving Alexandria was the hardest thing I've ever done, but it was when my life truly began.'

She closely watched Judith's face as the girl pondered her words. Her lips opened, forming words that Carol would never hear because at that same moment, she heard a faint voice carried on the still night air.

It sounded like a warning or a cry of terror. It sounded like her name, but somehow different. Carol ran to the window and saw Brian racing towards the house with an expression of terror painting his features.

He cried out one word just as he burst into flames: 'Harrowers!'

And then the sky exploded with fire.


	6. Chapter 6

Daryl arrived at Alexandria about an hour after Rick's life was shattered once again. At the same time, Rick's mind was lingering on the moment about ten years before when he realised there was no more sugar left. All their reserves had dried up and all of their scavenging runs and turned up empty.

It was almost comical – understanding that something that had fuelled trade and slavery, that had caused bloodshed and strife both before and after the end could suddenly not be there anymore. There was no extraordinary change really – it took days and weeks before people even noticed and even then they adapted pretty quickly. It was a subtle moment though, rather like forgetting the name of your third-grade teacher or the taste of single-malt whisky.

A reminder that life was less than it had been before. A loss of innocence.

Most clearly he recalled Michonne's face, twisted into a grim smile. 'So no more chocolate?'

He heaved a breath as the pain came in waves, his brain unable to handle the full impact of everything he had just lost. Michonne. Jacob. Lucy. His family, his friends – all gone.

Alexandria was in ruins, smoke rising from the stumps of buildings that had stood for decades, unassailed by endless hoards of Walkers, gangs and desperate, hungry wanderers. Now it lay in pieces like a child's toy – a broken vessel for countless lost dreams.

Rick was sitting on the ground, clutching a handful of dirt and twigs when Daryl approached. He stood there – a symbol of everything that was wrong with the world. Daryl had betrayed him, abandoned him and had gained the world, whereas he had stood firm, done what was necessary to protect his home and his world had been stolen him. The injustice was galling.

He looked up at the face of his old friend, torn as to whether to punch him out or shoot him dead. Before he was able to decide, his body betrayed him and he burst into agonised sobs.

Daryl grabbed him and held him like a child, and suddenly it was as if no time had passed at all. Rick felt nothing less than overwhelming gratitude to have him there just like the old days – having his back. There was room in his heart for regret.

Carl stood there frozen in mute shock, watching the two father-figures who had spent much of his life locked in bitter enmity. He felt much of his anger drain away, replaced by a bottomless sadness when he realised that he would never see Michonne again.

Abraham stumbled up at that moment – his breath coming in fits and starts. 'No sign of Walkers. There was a fight – I found a couple dozen bodies behind barricades and in the houses.'

Rick blinked tears away. 'Did you find… did you see…?'

'We looked all over. I can't Michonne or the kids… Sasha…' Abraham swallowed painfully, unable to name his precious children, Andrew and Debbie.

He thought that he had struck it lucky, that the fates would not allow him to lose another family. This time, there was no Eugene to prevent him from ending the overwhelming pain that pierced his heart.

A rumbling sound in the distance sent the men racing for cover and scrambling for their weapons. Rick and Daryl waited, guns drawn as Abraham climbed up the nearest watch tower.

'What is it?' Rick hissed.

It seemed like an eternity passed as Abraham stared into the distance. Then he turned to Rick. 'It's for you.'

Rick approached the fallen gates and squinted into the rising sun. His heart picked up its pace when he saw the familiar sight of the Hilltop bus flying towards them like a winged saviour to their rescue.

Except… it couldn't be.

Rick took off running as the bus pulled to a halt outside. He burst into tears once more as Michonne flung herself into his arms.

'You're alive…' He breathed her in – astonished that he could feel her breadth and weight, the softness of her skin and the scratch of her deadlocks against his cheek. 'How…? The kids…?'

She pulled away and stroked his face. 'The kids are fine. Sasha and the little ones too…' She smiled at Abraham whose face immediately crumpled.

It took Michonne a moment to recognise Carl – so grown since she had seen him last. When she did her face lit up with happiness.

'Baby.'

Without a beat, she held her arms out wide and enfolded him tightly. She felt different to Carl – her arms were softer and less muscular and her embrace was gentler now. Being a mother again clearly suited her.

Maggie climbed off the bus, her customary plain black attire in contrast with the radiance of her welcoming smile. 'Y'all need to come with us. We have a lot to talk about.'

Rick could barely contain his excitement as the bus trundled along the bumpy road towards Hilltop. For now, all the tangled thoughts that usually bound his mind together were unimportant. Alexandria, Sophia, the gangs – none of it mattered a damn compared to the knowledge that his kids were alive and that he would see them in a matter of minutes.

The moment the gates to Hilltop closed behind them, Rick jumped off the bus and ran to catch his youngest children in a crushing hug. Abraham broke down in sobs when he saw Sasha approach with Andrew in her arms, followed quickly by little Debbie.

Carl and Daryl stood apart, smiling as they took in the reunions. There seemed to be a strange air underpinning the joyful scene. Maggie and Michonne looked tense, and Daryl could read their expressions well enough to know that they were keeping something grave from the rest of them.

He spotted a couple of familiar faces in the crowd. 'Eugene? Rosita?' He grinned – genuinely pleased to see his old comrades.

'Daryl,' Eugene said in greeting. 'It does my eyes good to see you. Rosita and I have heard a great deal about your ventures. To say the honest truth, we both feel some regret that we never joined you in your great exodus across the plains. I look forward to visiting your homestead before long.'

Eugene leaned closer and lowered his voice. 'I wouldn't be lying to say that Hilltop, while a place of sanctuary in a world gone mad, has proved something of a disappointment since we left Alexandria some years ago. I think we might be ready to make a move to pastures new.'

Daryl was unsure what to make of this long speech. He had never understood Eugene's convoluted form of conversation, but usually found that nodding noncommittally got him to stop talking.

Rosita squeezed his shoulder. 'We should talk later. We love Maggie but people are getting tired of her preaching. To tell the truth, if I don't get out of here soon, I'm gonna go _loca_.'

Rick, Daryl and the others were quickly ushered into Barrington House where Maggie addressed them. 'We've received intelligence over the last couple of years about the existence of a new gang. Best we can tell they were started by a group of women who were kidnapped and sold into slavery by one of the barons. The leader, Cheryl believes that she's some kind of avenging angel – she wants revenge against anyone she deems responsible for her enslavement. Two days ago, they attacked the Kingdom. The damage was minimal but Ezekiel thinks it was a statement of intent – to show everyone what they could do. They were well-armed with a tank, flamethrowers and plenty of ammunition.'

Maggie paused, her eyes falling on Rick. He squirmed under her unwavering gaze, trying to mine his memory for the significance of the name. Cheryl – that name bore some terrible weight in his mind.

'Ezekiel believes that they were trying to drive someone to ground. We evacuated Alexandra as a precaution, leaving a token security staff there. We didn't truly understand what they were capable of until today.'

And then he knew - Cheryl had told him to remember her name. In the middle of the cries and desperate pleadings of the other women, she had been calm. Her expression had been one of pure pity and hatred. She knew that she would have her revenge someday.

'Rick?' Maggie's expression was infuriatingly pious. She knew, and was eager to torture him.

He cleared his throat. 'Six years ago, we came across a group of women on the road who'd escaped a slave camp. We took them in for a bit, but their employer soon came knocking on our door. His name was Burke, and he was the main supplier of lime mortar within a hundred miles. We were a growing community, and we needed to trade. As part of the price, he asked for the women back.'

Rick saw Daryl's eyes narrow in that inscrutable way of his.

'We had too many mouths to feed and we couldn't afford to keep them. They didn't have skills – couldn't fight. I figured it was a reasonable request. At least with Burke they'd have three square meals and a bed to sleep in… even if they did have to work for it.'

Hearing the words out loud after all these years he was aware of how hollow they sounded. Back then it had been one of a series of difficult but necessary decisions, now with the clarity of time it was what it appeared to be – an atrocity.

'Those women staged an uprising,' Maggie said. 'Took over and killed everyone, then they went to ground. Started raiding settlements and gaining strength – became their own gang, calling itself the Harrowers.'

'How do you know all this stuff?' Daryl enquired. Rumours had reached Fort Sophia of this gang, but realising that Rick was partially responsible for their creation disgusted him.

'We rescued a prisoner – an old veteran they'd been milking for information about landmines and ordnance. He was badly injured but he told us everything before he passed. It turns out it's not just you they're after. They won't be satisfied 'til they've killed everyone you care about – everyone you have an association with. They've launched attacks against towns you've done business with, gangs you've dealt with. The Hilltop and Kingdom communities are preparing themselves for a full-scale onslaught.'

Daryl leapt from his seat and raced out of the building, down to where the bus was parked.

'Daryl, wait!' Rick sprinted after him.

'I gotta get back! Those bitches will be headed for Sophia – all this time we been jawin', we been wasting time!'

Rick grabbed him by the collar. 'Listen! You can't help them like this.' He spoke calmly, even though his heart was racing. 'They're an army – we need to regroup and arm ourselves. Come up with a plan.'

'But Carol… all our people…'

'I know.' Rick's voice broke. 'My daughter is there too. I have just as much reason to fight the Harrowers, but we need to do it right.'

He saw the look of mistrust and contempt in Daryl's eyes. 'We need to work together if we're gonna beat them. I know this is my fault and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything.'

For the first time in years, it felt like he was speaking honestly, without an ulterior motive. All he could think about was rescuing Judith, not what he could gain from the situation.

Daryl nodded tersely, appearing to believe him, at least for the moment.

Maggie approached Rick as he was readying one of the vehicles for the journey. She had agreed to lend them gas, weapons and personnel to help rescue Fort Sophia. 'Killing the Harrowers isn't going to heal your soul, Rick. You need to be redeemed in the eyes of God, not just for what you did to these women, but for what this world did to you.'

'I ain't got time for this, Maggie…'

'None of us have time. Glenn didn't, my father, my sister… all of them were stolen from me. I've watched you change from a man who would do anything to protect his people to a selfish, self-serving man who has cruelty in his heart. That's not the man I know.'

Rick was unable to face her questing eyes that bored into him, always looking for answers that he couldn't give her. 'What do you want from me? I can't go back and be the man I was twenty years ago. I've lost too much. I promised I wouldn't lose anybody ever again.'

'And look where that got you,' Maggie persisted. 'Carl left you, now Judith is a pawn in your crazy games. I'm not asking you to find God, Rick. I'm asking you to find yourself, before it's too late.'

A convoy of vehicles left for Fort Sophia, armed and ready for whatever they were about to face. Daryl's mind swam with fear – already he was bargaining with fate to return his Carol to him.

 _We can start again, just as long as she's ok. We can build it all again. Just let her be ok._

Rick knew exactly what his former friend was thinking and feeling – the same terrors gripped him body and mind. Both sets of eyes were trained the skyline, looking for evidence of the Harrowers.

 _I told her I'd be home before sunset._ Daryl watched the last fingers of sunlight disappear as night fell.

They reached the crest of the hill and he felt his stomach lurch in horror. The truck ground to a stop, followed quickly by the rest of the vehicles.

The whole of Fort Sophia was ablaze. Panic invaded every cell and pore in Daryl and Rick as they watched the town burn, sending an orange inferno into the sky. The vehicles drew as close to the fortress as they dared and the occupants piled out, armed to the teeth and ready to take on all comers.

It took forever before the gates were opened they entered, checking all sides for lingering Harrowers. Townspeople ran everywhere with buckets of water, desperately trying to quench the fires, but Rick could see that it was hopeless. The wooden houses that had seemed so fragile to him only the day before now curled and buckled like paper in the flames.

'Carol!' Daryl roared. 'Carol!' His heart rent at the sight of the home that he had built in tatters, but all he could think about was finding her again.

When it was clear that the threat of the Harrowers had passed, most of the group holstered their weapons and helped the distressed inhabitants as they struggled to save their homes and families. Rick had another mission in mind, while Carl looked around in desperation, searching for his wife and children.

Daryl's heart leapt when he saw Carol stumbling into view. His eyes raked over her. Her hair and the animal skins she wore were singed, but other than that she looked largely unhurt. Her gait was strange though – she seemed encumbered by something.

And then Daryl recognised the lifeless bundle that she carried in her arms.

It was Pip.


	7. Chapter 7

Fear gripped Rick's entire body as he wound his way through the maze of burning buildings, desperately chasing the figure that bobbed in and out of view.

Every house and outbuilding on fire, every desperate refugee left coughing and spluttering in the frigid night air was a testament to his hubris – his greed. He could no longer deny the responsibility he bore for what had happened here.

He had done this.

'Carl!' he shouted breathlessly. It had been a long time since he had run so far so fast. One of the benefits of having so much power and influence was that running had finally become a thing of the past. When he first reached Alexandria after so long on the road being chased by Walkers and cannibals, he pledged never to be in that position again. 'Carl, come back!'

Rick rounded a corner and finally saw Carl standing in front of the smouldering skeleton of a house. He watched a look of shock and pain blossom on his son's face and realised with horror that it was his house. He reached out and grabbed his son's arms, restraining him.

'Millie!' he shouted. 'Let go of me!

It surprised Rick how strong his son had become in the intervening years. He felt an enormous sense of grief that the boy who used to look up to him – both literally and figuratively – had been replaced by a stranger.

'Carl?'

A handsome black woman approached him, her eyes wide with the effects of delayed shock.

'Susan?' Carl looked at her with desperation. He broke from Rick's grasp and stumbled towards his neighbour. 'Did you see Millie? Do you know…?'

'Carl…' Rick saw tears sparkle in her eyes. 'I came to get her and the kids when the fighting started. Carol ordered everyone to hide in the tunnels. I had Ricky and the little one and Millie and Judith were behind us. There was an explosion and I turned and saw the house on fire…'

Susan paused, and Rick was so accustomed to hearing terrible news that he knew what was coming.

'She fell…'

Susan did not need to continue as Carl lurched over with a cry of anguish. Rick was at his side in an instant, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt at consolation. He stepped back in shock when Carl contemptuously shrugged him off.

'Susan…' Carl uttered tearfully. 'Where are my kids? Please tell me, are they…'

'I don't know.' Susan looked apologetic and helpless. 'It was total confusion. I had to find Ben and the kids…'

There was a look of total despair on Carl's face that wrenched Rick's heart. He waited for his son to turn his grief and anger upon him.

' _Go ahead,'_ he said to himself. _'I deserve it.'_

A swell of pain rose up inside him at the realisation that he would never get to know his grandchildren. He quickly became aware that another figure was approaching. It was Judith – he felt such relief that a cold sweat broke out over his entire body.

He looked down and saw that she held a baby with one arm and gripped the hand of an infant boy toddling beside her. Without speaking a word, she held out the baby towards her brother. Carl closed the distance between himself and his sister in the blink of an eye, swooping the baby out of her arms and grabbing Ricky in one fluid motion.

Rick felt lightheaded, as if he had just been spared from execution. He had a strong sense of reunion, of having his family returned to him. Twice in the past twenty-four hours he had had his family poised on the brink of annihilation before being snatched to safety.

He felt humbled as if bathed in divine grace and silently thanked the God he had abandoned years before. His mind turned in guilt to Michonne, sitting a mile down the road with her team of Alexandrian survivors and Hilltop fighters, awaiting his signal. What she didn't know – what none of them knew yet was that this second wave was not there to rescue Sophia, but to take it over. He planned to finish the work of the Harrowers. Thinking of it now, he was struck by how squalid his ambitions were. Had he truly been reduced to this – to picking the bones of a devastated community?

The rusty, rasping sound of a bullhorn shocked him back to awareness. The voice that emerged was cool and mocking. Rick immediately recognised the educated, elegant tones of Cheryl, the women he had mercilessly returned to slavery so long ago.

'I think you know who this is, and I think you know now what I'm capable of. Don't worry – we are reasonable people. We will leave you in peace, just as long as you give us what we want. We want Rick Grimes delivered to us at the crossroads of Highway 7 and Fruitfield, tomorrow at noon. If you fail to do this, of you try anything, we'll come back here and finish you. Then we'll go to Alexandria and Hilltop and all the other settlements where you're friends live, and we'll finish them too. This is a friendly warning.'

The announcement ended as abruptly as it began. He should have known that her voice would come back to haunt him some day. All his plans for Fort Sophia were for nothing – they were the height of vanity. He had already caused so much pain and suffering – there was only one way to make amends.

He stalked off in the direction of Carol and Daryl's house.

* * *

Daryl found his partner hauling buckets of water from the town well, part of a desperate effort to save the stables from destruction. The conflagration had reached such extremes that they had been forced to open the gates and release the animals to prevent a stampede. A few hours earlier, that would have been considered the worst possible outcome.

Now they were fighting for their very lives.

Most of the other major fires had been brought under control. Crucially, the barn and the contents of the tunnels beneath had been secured. Now the human cost of the attack was slowly being counted. In total, there were at least two dozen lives lost and scores more injured. The barn had been turned into triage, where burns, smoke inhalation and broken bones were being treated to the best of their limited ability.

'Carol?' Daryl struggled to make himself heard above the general confusion. She continued to work, oblivious to him. 'Carol,' he tried again. 'They got it. Come on, I need you.'

Reluctantly, she allowed another volunteer to take her place. 'What is it?' she rasped when they had reached a sufficient distance. Her face was coated in soot, making her blue eyes stand out in contrast. She had a haunted look about her and appeared to have aged about ten years in the preceding hours.

'There's someone wants to talk to us,' Daryl eventually broke his silence, shocked by her altered appearance. 'It's Rick.'

She kept her head down, making her expression unreadable. He pulled her aside when the house came into view. 'Talk to me, Carol.'

'About what?' She again refused to meet his gaze, instead keeping her focus trained on the smouldering town.

'About Pip.'

She glanced at him briefly, a dangerous look in her eyes. 'I don't know if you've been paying attention, but we've got a bigger problem here.'

'Talk to me,' he repeated.

She was silent for a long time, and Daryl saw her shoulders tremble slightly. 'This is my fault. God is punishing me.'

Daryl was tempted to scoff. He was aware of his wife's feelings about the Almighty. After all these years she was still haunted by a sense of guilt about her daughter's death, as well as the lives she had snuffed out since then. He knew that if God was there, surely he saw how she struggled with her conscience over those deaths, how everything she did was based on love.

'I was proud,' Carol continued. 'I thought what we built here was enough to make up for the things I've done. But Pip…' she paused, her voice shaking. 'Pip was my test. All she wanted was a family, someone to love her. She chose me, but I pushed her aside. I couldn't love her because she reminded me of Sophia, and now I'm being punished.'

Daryl grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look directly at him. 'This ain't your fault, woman. This is the world now – dog eat dog. We couldn't escape it forever, but we gave these people a place to hide for a while. Maybe we should'a been more ready, should'a been stronger. We know better now. We can start again, long as we have each other.'

She gave him a curious look, perplexed by his unwavering faith. Where she trusted in God, he believed in them. She remembered what had drawn her to him in the first place – his innate goodness despite the circumstances, despite appearances. His unwavering belief in right had given her strength in the worst of times, but she was unsure if even he could carry them both through this nightmare.

'You ain't the one to blame,' Daryl repeated.

At that moment, Carol looked up at their house and saw Rick framed by the large window of their front room. At that moment, she knew who was to blame.

* * *

The shattered and grieving people of Fort Sophia – even the injured – waited in the barn for the meeting to come to order. It was still before dawn and the last of the fires had been extinguished, yet there was no time to rest or mourn the fallen, even to bury them.

They were hunched in defeat and terror, caught between the awful memories of what had just happened and the invisible promise of the Harrowers' return.

'Friends,' Carol said, her voice cracking with the effects of smoke and exhaustion. 'This has been a terrible night for all of us, but we are not through the worst of it. Our attackers won't rest until they have got what they want, and so neither can we.'

A voice came from the back of the room. 'We know what they want – it's him!' Annabelle, the elderly baker lady pointed a shaking finger at Rick.

Her decrepit husband Claude shakily stood to his feet in solidarity. 'Yeah! Hand him over – what are we even waiting for?'

A dangerous atmosphere was brewing among the frightened and angry survivors. Daryl could tell that things would soon get out of control.

'Hey! Listen y'all!'

It was so rare for Daryl to raise his voice that a shocked silence fell upon the crowd.

'We're here to talk about our future,' he began, unsure what he wanted to say but knowing that the longer he spoke, the less chance the crowd had of turning violent. 'We've made something here that's stronger than the walls around it, something that can't be torn down with guns or fire. These Harrowers – they can kill our people, but as long as we stay standing, as long as we do right by each other, then Fort Sophia lives on.'

Daryl sensed a growing calm which seemed to radiate outwards from his chest to encompass all of his listeners. It was a heady feeling, considering that he had never been comfortable with making speeches, preferring actions to words. He glanced over at Carol and was struck dumb by the love and warmth in her eyes.

'Rick thinks he can get the Harrowers to see reason,' Carol announced. 'He plans to hand himself over and try and persuade them to join us.'

A ripple of confusion mixed with derision moved across the room. Rick stepped forward, bracing his hands on his hips in a show of confidence.

'I realise that my actions have brought us here. I take responsibility for everything – for the Harrowers coming to be, for the attack that destroyed your town. Fifteen years ago, my arrogance drove Daryl and Carol to build Fort Sophia, and last night, that same arrogance drove the Harrowers to burn it down. I want to try and make it right.'

'What makes you think you can do it?' It was Judith who spoke. Her words jolted a dazed Carl, sitting next to her with baby Becky on his lap, to attention. 'What makes you think they won't just kill you?'

Rick stared into his daughter's eyes. Like so many others, she seemed to have completely lost faith in her father. He wondered if it hadn't all been an illusion – her love for him, his people's trust. Perhaps it was all rooted in fear, in a misguided notion of his power and righteousness. That illusion was broken forever last night.

'They might,' he finally answered. 'But if I know anything, it's making people believe in me. It started the moment I woke up after the Apocalypse. Before the world ended, I was just an ordinary man – a town sheriff with a happy family. When shit went down, I discovered what I really was – a huckster. I made people believe I was a leader. Eventually, I believed it myself. It wasn't until I came here that I saw the difference. What I stole – you people built. Where I wanted to control, you wanted to share. That all came from you.'

He looked at Daryl and Carol. 'You achieved something I never could, not with all my cunning – all my alliances. I'll tell you the honest truth – when I first looked at this place, I wanted it. I wanted to take it over – now I want to belong to it. I want to rebuild it.'

'Why should we believe you now?' It was Susan this time, trying to wrangle Ricky, the child that Carl had named after him.

Rick kept his eyes trained on the small boy wriggling on her lap. 'If the Harrowers kill me, I guess you'll know for sure.' He saw Carl and Judith react to his words.

'And if they don't?' Susan asked.

Rick took a deep breath and told them his plan.


	8. Chapter 8

Daryl entered the kitchen and immediately froze, startled to find Carol sweeping up locks of hair into a singed pile. He looked up in shock to see her shorn head, reminding him so strongly of the first time he saw her all those years before.

He knew what her hair meant to her – it was attached to her feelings for Fort Sophia, tied up tightly to how she viewed herself as a mother and a woman. The new Carol had was born here had been burned away, just as it had been after the attack on the prison.

She faced him with a look of defiance, confronting him with her new appearance. He had just finished inspecting the devastated wreckage of their town, trying to rehouse displaced civilians – to suppress the gut-wrenching despair that threatened to take over. He came to her seeking comfort, but in place of his lover he saw a stranger.

'Carol…' he began.

'Shh.' She held out her hand to him. 'Come with me.'

He followed her up to the bathroom where she had filled the ancient tub with boiling water. She helped him undress before quickly shedding her own ragged and burnt clothes. As they climbed into the water he felt a strange kind of communion between them – one that went beyond words.

They gently washed one another, removing the physical traces of their ordeal. What they could not wash away was the sorrow that weighed them both down – the accumulated pain of all the loved ones lost, all the excruciating choices made.

'I gotta move forward,' Carol murmured as Daryl lathered her newly-cropped hair. She tried to persuade herself it wasn't a penance – remembering the tonsured heads of nuns she had seen as a girl. 'I can't… I can't…'

He shushed her, pulling her into his arms. 'I got you baby.' And then, 'She was our little girl.'

That was all it took for the floodgates to open. Carol began to heave great gasping sobs of anguish, her whole body shaking.

In all the years they had been together, Daryl had never seen her break down so completely. Her grief seemed never-ending, flowing from her like a torrent – almost frightening in its intensity. It was not just Pip she mourned, it was Sophia, Lizzie and Mika and all those she loved who had been taken from her. It amazed him that the woman who had built an image of herself as a fearless warrior and leader could shatter like this.

He held her tightly, hoping that his strength alone could keep her whole, knowing that he needed her courage, her wisdom and her guidance to steady him and keep him sane. The fearful image of Carol without hope, a broken shell of herself, had haunted him since their abortive mission to Atlanta to rescue Beth. He had seen flashes of what she might become without a reason to continue, allowing herself to sink into all-consuming numbness.

He had to keep her going. He needed her.

The water slowly cooled around them and Carol's breathing began to normalise. Eventually they climbed out and Daryl drained the tub, watching the sooty water sluice away. Carol allowed herself to be led into the bedroom where Daryl went to work with a towel, drying her limbs with care.

Not for the first time he wished that he had the words to comfort her, to tell her that the losses they had suffered had held some meaning. He once believed it too. At least then he could look at Fort Sophia and see the result of all of their hard work and pain. He could see a reason for leaving the relative safety of Alexandria, leaving Rick and all those they knew and loved for the unknown. Now all he could see was ashes.

'Carol…' he murmured, as if reassure himself that she was still there. She gripped his arms, pulling him into her embrace. They kissed deeply, gently caressing each other in silent communication. It was their own private ritual, their way of saying without words that they were still alive.

Daryl fell into an exhausted and dreamless sleep as soon as they had finished making love. Carol lay awake watching him until she could no longer avoid the inevitable.

The sun had risen and so must she. She dressed warmly and prepared to face the Harrowers once more.

* * *

Rick felt sick to his stomach as the jeep lurched along the empty country road that led to the arranged meeting point.

There was an air of wildness here that unnerved him – it made him fear that there were more than just Walkers hiding among the trees ready to devour him. He had heard tales of bears and mountain lions prowling the woods for unsuspecting travellers now that much of the smaller prey had starved or been eaten.

He felt out of control – his head woozy and his thoughts diffuse. His plan had seemed so logical and tricksy when he had laid it out to the tired and heartbroken residents of Fort Sophia, but in the light if day there were too many variables, too many unknowns.

It was clear that Cheryl and her followers were ruthless and bloodthirsty, but they also believed their cause was righteous. Strong belief suggested emotionality, and emotions could be exploited.

It had all been so easy to rationalise when he was behind high walls but now, as they neared the crossroads, Rick had the feeling of a lamb being led to the slaughter.

He looked down at his old tattered sheriff's hat clutched in his fingers – the one Carl had worn all those years. Judith had pressed it into his hands as he was leaving, earnestly saying 'Always remember, Dad.'

What had she meant? She was gone before he could question her. Fear settled in his stomach like icy pitch at the thought that he might not see her again. He struggled to remember his last words to her, but they were lost in the mess and confusion of Fort Sophia after the attack.

The memory of Carl cradling his children with relief made his heart contract with grief. The love and unity between them was devastating when realised that he was excluded from it – that what Judith had done more for Carl meant more than anything he had done for his son.

He tried to take comfort in his plan – his precious plan that depended so much on other people for its success. For all his bluster, he was completely in the hands of fate, he realised with wonder.

No, that wasn't true. He was in the hands of his friends.

Carol crunched the gears, reminding him of where they were and what their mission was. He felt horribly exposed out here with only her for company, besides the fact that he knew in his bones that she hated him. He wondered what she had planned for him if they got out of this alive. It struck him that in truth, he thoroughly merited whatever plan of revenge she had in store for him.

He was finally able to admit to himself that between the Harrowers and Carol, he was owed a big slice of retribution.

The roadblock came into sight, making his hands clench reflexively. He felt like a man going to his own execution, despite the veneer of unshakeable confidence that had become his defining characteristic. Truth was, he was terrified. Terrified of dying, of leaving his family to fend for themselves in this godforsaken world. Worst of all, he was scared of what he had done and what it meant for his soul.

 _Soul._ It was an odd phrase – a remnant of times past when religion was the guiding arbiter of moral decisions instead of bleak, ghastly circumstance. It was a long time since he had worried about the condition of his soul, but Maggie's words returned to haunt him.

' _I'm not asking you to find God, Rick. I'm asking you to find yourself, before it's too late.'_

And then it hit him – the meaning behind Judith's cryptic words. She was asking him to remember the man he once was, the stranger who still dogged his heels at times, confronting him with his guilt. Rick Grimes – Officer Friendly.

He heard the hiss of a bullhorn spitting to life and snapped to attention. 'That's far enough, lady.' The smooth, crisp tones of Cheryl's voice were chilling in their lack of emotion.

Carol pulled over, allowing Rick to assess the force that lay ahead of them. The road was blocked by a fleet of armoured trucks and cars with a host of women displaying their weapons to full effect. It was an impressive sight, but what truly made Rick's jaw drop was the fire engine that was parked behind them. It was plated with armour like the other vehicles, but the hoses had been strapped together on the roof, hooked up to a huge gas canister and fitted with a pilot light.

They had constructed an enormous mobile flame thrower. Rick had to shake his head with awe and respect. He was no longer surprised at their ability to spread terror and destruction wherever they went. In a world where fear was power, it was the ultimate weapon.

Cheryl stepped down from her perch on the lead vehicle. The years that had elapsed since he cast her out of Alexandria hadn't altered her beauty. It shocked him how lovely she was despite everything that had happened, but there was a cold, abstracted look in her eyes that hinted at untold horrors.

'Rick Grimes,' she intoned. 'I wish I could say well met, but we've gone beyond pleasantries, wouldn't you say?'

'You're the woman who's responsible for destroying my home,' Carol said without preamble.

Cheryl eyed her with curiosity. 'I assure you that it was nothing personal. You had something I wanted – him.' She spoke simply and without a hint of apology, as if her words bore an innate logic that should be obvious to anyone.

'So you terrorised and murdered my friends.' Carol kept her voice neutral, but Rick would tell that under the surface, she was seething with hatred.

Cheryl looked impatient. 'That's the world now, isn't it?' She kept her eyes trained on Rick as she spoke.

'Tell me,' Carol persisted. 'What do you plan to do with Rick once I hand him over – kill him? And then what? Will you just go around burning towns, trying to sate your thirst for blood? Can you create anything or merely destroy?'

Cheryl cast her cold eyes over the other woman for the first time. There was irritation in her expression, but as she spoke Rick saw a manifestation of the deep loathing that she felt for him.

'Good question,' she replied meditatively. 'When Rick sold us back into slavery we were raped almost every day.'

Rick flinched at the casual horror of her words. Somewhere deep down, he must have known the fate he had condemned those women to when he sent them back to Burke. It had been all too easy to justify his actions – to tell himself that it was worth it for the sake of his people. Now he felt clothed in guilt and shame and regret.

Cheryl continued her brutal confession. 'I went into labour on Christmas Eve. It was breach and none of the women knew what to do. The men were blind drunk and the only doctor was in the next town. Burke couldn't be bothered to send for him when all his men were having such a fine time. The baby was born dead and I was almost taken with it. I was told I'd never have another child – it was a relief to me that I'd never be forced to go through that again. Can you believe that?'

She looked at Carol as if this was a normal conversation and she was truly seeking her opinion. Then she remembered herself. 'Yes, a relief. It was so perverse that I began to hate myself, but slowly my anger turned towards those who deserved it. They paid for their crimes and so must you.' She regarded Rick as one might a dead rodent that needed to be swept from a doorstep.

'And the rest of us?' Carol enquired. 'What about the innocent lives you've taken? You killed a little girl that I loved. She was seven years old.' She almost spat the words, such was the contempt that she felt. She was moved by her plight but unable to forgive her.

Cheryl held her in a penetrating stare before shrugging. 'In this world, the innocent die. But in reparation for your loss, I will allow you to return to your home and promise not to interfere with you again.'

She paused, her lips curling into a sinister grin. 'And to answer your question, I don't intend to kill your friend. He is going to suffer as we were forced to.'

Rick glanced at Carol in confusion. Surely she didn't mean…?

'Unlike me, many of the women in my group are fertile, and there's a lack of good breeding stock among us. We have to think of the future.'

A mounting horror threaten to overwhelm Rick at her words. Already he felt bile rising in his throat.

Two women stepped forward to bundle him into the back of one of the armoured cars. He saw Carol's white and drawn face as she weighed up her options. Slowly she turned and got back into the jeep.

Rick breathed deeply to calm himself. _Stick to the plan_ , the mantra reverberated around his brain. _Everything will be alright as long as you stick to the plan._ His old sheriff's hat dangled between his fingers.

He guessed that two hours elapsed before the sound of rushing water reached his ears. On assessing his surroundings, he realised that they were entering a steep-sided river valley. The fields that ran alongside the dirt road were lush and green.

It was the perfect location for a settlement. It was also the perfect location for an ambush. As they drove further into the valley, Rick felt and increasing sense of alarm.

He saw women and girls emerging from wood and corrugated iron huts to watch the convoy approach. Hunger and poverty was etched into their faces, but instead of pity Rick felt only disgust and terror. The vague question of where the men were flitted through his mind.

He was hauled from the car and the first thing he felt was a stinging pain as his knees hit the dirt. Jeering faces gathered around to laugh and mock his prone figure while feet kicked him in the ribs and back.

A terrible realisation gripped his mind with every blow that landed. Nobody was coming. His friends had abandoned him.


	9. Chapter 9

Carol's head itched and felt oddly light and cool in the noonday sun. She had forgotten how unencumbered she could feel without her protective mane of hair. For all the act of cutting it off had been a symbolic break with the past, she still couldn't dislodge the tight sensation in her chest like a wad of pain and anger that she had not allowed herself to experience in a long time.

It was a feeling of powerlessness akin to being under Ed's thumb, to watching Sophia stumble out of the barn that awful day, to the realisation that nowhere on earth was safe without paying a price too dear for her sanity.

Rick had made her feel that way. Whatever way she cut it, his cruelty and greed had caused Cheryl and the Harrowers to hunger for revenge. The fact that he had fallen into their hands made her head swim with an overwhelming sense of justice.

How easy it would be to delay, to let him have a taste of what those women had suffered.

As satisfying as the idea felt she knew that it would not undo everything that his actions and decisions had caused. All it would do was make the circle keeping spinning.

It stuck in her craw that he was still controlling things. After all, it was Rick's plan that she was helping to execute. Who knew what betrayals he might spring on them as soon as he was cut loose? Her instincts screamed at her to let him hang, but then where would they go from there? Back to their ruined home to starve and rot.

Like so many times in the past she prayed for faith – not the comforting type she had once held in justness of God's will. Instead she sought the steady belief that Daryl had – the deep-seated conviction that everything would be alright as long as they had each other.

Sometimes this belief was sufficient for the two of them. It kept her clothed and fed and moving in a forward direction. Other times, the stubborn pain would return like an ache in her joints, reminding her that hope was a lie, that love was futile.

She had looked into Cheryl's face and felt a blinding hatred for her, but thinking back she was struck with pity for what the woman had endured. She felt a sense of kinship that was chilling. Perhaps she deserved her revenge. Perhaps Rick deserved to be punished, if only a little, if only as a reminder that he was mortal too.

 _We are none of us gods,_ Carol reminded herself. _We are masters only of our own lives – if we are lucky._

Sophia, Lizzie, Pip – all those she had loved who had fallen victim to this cruel world – none of them had ever hurt a soul. They had remained innocent, if only because they had not survived long enough to be corrupted.

Carol could not claim innocence – she had far too much blood on her hands. Perhaps by making the difficult choice she could claw back some of that lost innocence and throw it into the world.

As exhausted as she felt, as heartsick as she was, she knew what she had to do.

* * *

He heard laughter ringing through the valley. It was the sound of triumph – the song of the victor over the vanquished. As Daryl sat astride his bike, he felt a hint of sadness that it would soon end, that their joyful celebration would turn to screams of terror.

Men had gone in on foot to recce the area and what they reported back made him cautiously hopeful. There were no scouts protecting the valley, and Daryl could only hope that it was a sign of their arrogance and not a ruse to draw them into a trap.

If they approached quickly and quietly enough, they would be in the perfect position for an ambush. However, one hint that they were moving in and the Harrowers would unleash their full wrath on the invaders, not the mention Rick.

He squinted up and the sky and saw that the sun was beginning to flag. It would soon be nightfall. Beside him, rows upon rows of trucks and armoured vehicles lay at his command. Among his allies he saw the faces of Abraham and Sasha, Michonne, Eugene and Rosita. Carl and some of the others from Fort Sophia insisted on riding on horseback. They had little experience in driving vehicles, let alone fighting in them.

Time was swiftly passing, but he knew they could not proceed without the others.

'We doin' this?' Abraham queried. 'Or we gonna sit here holding our privates?'

And then he heard it – the tell-tale rumble in the distance that made his heart soar. It was the noise of dozens of engines thundering towards them. The sound of victory. Soon the clamour would reach the ears of the Harrowers down below.

Daryl gave the signal. It was now or never.

* * *

Rick could feel the entire right side of his face thicken and swell. His eye was completely shut and blood was caked in his hair, the result of a vicious kick from a particularly nasty boot.

The pain was clarifying. He realised that he had long felt the leaden weight of responsibility combined with the supreme effort it took to deaden his conscience. It felt like nothing so much as boredom. He loved Michonne and the kids and would do anything for them, but every glance in the mirror at his handsome, well-fed exterior was a reminder of how much he had stolen from others, how much they had suffered for his prosperity.

What happened at Fort Sophia had brought home to him the cost of his survival. Now, every blow and kick that landed on him was a taste of the defeat that he had inflicted on so many others.

He saw himself as he used to be in those early days, so pure of intention, so clear in his mission to protect those he loved. He looked into the eyes of the younger man and asked with the utmost sincerity, 'How did we get here?'

'You walked us here, brother,' his other self replied. 'Step by step.'

After clinging so desperately to life for so long, all hope suddenly escaped him like an exhaled breath. He wondered if they would take pity on him in the end, or if they would force him to linger on as a Walker – the final ironic punishment. He prayed for a swift bullet to the head.

And then he heard it, a terrible cacophony the likes of which he recalled from distant memory – the sound of a hundred engines roaring in unison. Rick saw the Harrowers react in fear and confusion as vehicles came bursting into the encampment from all sides.

They were here. They had come.

He had no time to revel in the success of his plan, nor to indulge the temptation to sob in gratitude. Instead, he leapt to his feet and shouted:

'Harrowers – hear me speak. I know what you must think of me. I know you blame me for what happened to you. In many ways I am to blame. I turned my back on you when you needed my help. I turned you over to men who abused you. I am ashamed of what I did. I'm sorry –'

As he spoke, Rick realised that it was true. He was sorry. For once his words didn't have an ulterior motive. In that instance, he wasn't looking to gain leverage. Other than his own miserable life, he didn't have a thing to gain by his confession.

Confession.

He recalled the words of the _Confiteor_ that the members of Maggie's church spoke with such simple conviction at the beginning of every service. The words ran through his mind like a mantra: 'I confess to Almighty God, and to you my brothers and sisters that I have sinned through my own fault, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and what I have failed to do…'

He had never considered the words before, but now repeating them in his mind he felt humbled, even penitent.

His moment of realisation did not last long as Cheryl pointed her handgun directly at his face.

'Call off your people.'

'I can't do that, Cheryl.'

'Call 'em off,' she repeated, her careful speech giving way to a fearsome snarl. 'Or they'll have to drag your corpse home.'

'You do that and they'll destroy you,' Rick explained. 'You killed their people – people from Alexandria, Fort Sophia, Hilltop. They want justice.'

He watched the subtle changes in her expression, awaiting her next move, all the while pondering if she would allow her people to be massacred for her sake. His hands were tied behind his back and his impaired eyesight hampered his chances of escape, but he was suddenly impelled to fight for his life.

The slightest movement of her hand caught his attention. Just as she turned the butt of her gun at her temple, he dived at her. The gun went skittering across the ground.

'They ain't gonna hurt you – not unless you force them to. Look – you're surrounded. Someone starts firing and we got ourselves a bloodbath.'

Cheryl's mouth remained clamped shut in fury. Rick addressed the crowd once more. 'We don't want your lives. We want to live in peace, and we can. All you have to do is choose.'

He looked around at the women's faces and saw some frozen in fear, others grimacing with hatred.

'You can go down in a blaze of glory or you can help us build something – build a new world. No more barons, no more dealing in human lives. Everyone equal.' Rick realised as he spoke that he meant it. He was making a pledge he intended to keep – even though he had no idea how.

A young, malnourished woman spoke up shyly, revealing a mouth full of missing teeth. 'Maybe we should do it.'

Another, carrying a rifle in her arms like an infant, spat on the ground in contempt. 'Liar! We set him loose and they'll kill us all – or sell us back to the slavers.'

All eyes were trained on Cheryl, straining to see her reaction. Rick knew that it would decide the future of all of them.

Cheryl glared at her second-in-command for a long time. She was a handsome middle-aged woman armed with a modified Beretta sidearm. 'Kill him,' she hissed. 'Do it now!'

He dropped to the ground, rolling onto his stomach and crawling desperately in the dirt. He heard the first bullet hitting the ground behind his head and then pain ripped through his shoulder.

A third shot rang out and through a haze of pain, Rick saw his assailant fall to the ground, clutching her bleeding hand in agony. Taking advantage of the distraction, Rick grabbed Cheryl's gun and pointed it at her head, the pain dulled by adrenaline.

All eyes turned to see the source of the gunshot and Rick followed the direction of their shocked stare. He spotted Carol holding a smoking pistol in her hand, an inscrutable expression on her face.

Finally she found her voice. 'Are we done now? Don't you think we've spilled enough blood over this man?'

Rick noted no particular malice in her voice – she was simply speaking a simple truth. All the havoc he had caused in his life – he was done with it. He tried to catch her eye to express his gratitude, but her eyes were fixed on Cheryl, waiting to see what she would do.

'Stand down.' Her voice rang clearly across the valley, and it seemed that a great collective breath of relief was released. Not a single person in the throng knew what would happen next, but Rick knew what would not happen.

Nobody would die that day, and that at least was a start.


	10. Chapter 10

For all that the ambush on the Quiet Valley had been a storm of hellish noise – a frenzy of panic and terror almost too great to bear – the moments after were silent and strangely empty. The triumph of Rick's rescue had fizzled out to a vague sense of disappointment.

The Harrowers lined up to dump their weapons in a pile, while some of the women of the valley tried to negotiate keeping a handgun apiece for Walkers. Carol could sense something brewing among the victors – an uneasy tension that she recognised from years of settling petty disputes among her people.

As she approached Daryl, she could tell that he was similarly discomfited.

'This ain't good,' he muttered. 'They're all itching for revenge.'

'I know.' Carol folded her arms and faced him. 'I'm one of them.'

Daryl gave her a look that said everything – he shared all of her pain and rage, but he understood that they had a greater responsibility here. As much as the instinctive, primitive part of his brain yearned to tear every one of these bitches to shreds, the secret, thoughtful part of him that he only shared with Carol actually emphathised with them. He knew what it was like to be on the outside, to be driven to the edges of humanity by the savagery of the world.

Seeing them now, stripped of their guns and their arrogance, they appeared to be exactly as were – women who had been violated and exploited beyond breaking point. In their eyes, he saw himself, crouched on his knees in the dirt all those years ago – listening to the whistles and cackles of Negan's men as they watched him beat Glenn's brains out. He felt their fear and their humiliation.

He knew that they couldn't mete out the justice that everyone was seeking – but they had to be seen to do something.

'Hey, Rick.'

The other man was deep in conversation with Michonne, and from their body language he could tell that they were talking about Carl. There was a distant look about the younger Grimes, as if he was grasping for some invisible object just out of reach.

Daryl felt for the kid, but there were more pressing matters at hand. He strode over to where Rick stood and whispered, 'What are you gonna do with Cheryl?'

'That's what we were just talking about,' Michonne replied. 'We can't leave her here – before long there'll be a lynch mob forming.'

'I promised we wouldn't hurt them,' Rick drawled, his jaw tensed.

'We don't have to hurt her to teach her a lesson.' Daryl thoughtfully rubbed the back of his neck. 'We take her as a hostage – as surety for good behaviour. Make sure the Harrowers don't start arming again.'

Michonne raised an eyebrow. 'Think your people will be satisfied with that? Or Hilltop? A lot of people died on account of those women.'

Abraham approached them at that moment, a grim look on his face. 'Just thought I'd give you a head's up. I've been hearing some disturbing whispers among the troops. I'd advise taking some pre-emptive action before we get the bum's rush, you hearing me?'

Daryl looked around and saw a group of people from the Kingdom speaking intently. There was a frenzied energy to their movements that he had learned to associate with impending violence. They needed to do something quickly to alleviate the atmosphere before it all descended into a massacre.

Something caught his attention in that moment – a burred motion in the corner of his eye. He spun around – his hunter's instincts ever alert. Carl seemed to be moving in slow motion – almost floating towards where Cheryl knelt with a pistol clutched tightly in his hand.

Daryl felt as if his whole body was frozen, dream-like. He opened his mouth to alert Rick, but he suddenly heard someone shouting Carl's name and then a curtain of hair swept past.

'Enid?' Carl's expression changed from one of intense concentration to immediate recognition. 'Enid, is that you?'

Fifteen years had not diminished Enid's beauty in his eyes. The only difference was the smattering of crow's feet at her temples and the grey strands in her abundant hair. He felt her delicate fingers clutching his wrist and suddenly all thoughts of revenge were banished. His mind was consumed with the discrepancy of her being there. The last time he had seen her was that day, so many years before, standing with his sheriff's hat in her hands as she pleaded with him not to leave.

'Just survive somehow,' had been the final, pathetic words that he had spoken to her. 'Where have you been?' were the next he said.

'The Kingdom,' she replied, smiling as if to underline the absurdity of the situation. Their reunion was taking place in front of a huge crowd and Carl barely noticed. Without another word he pulled her into a hug, trying to convey everything that he felt in that moment. There would be time enough later for lengthy discussions.

Daryl noticed a change in the atmosphere – Carl's sudden, reckless act and the sweetness of their reconciliation seemed to have calmed the general mood. He realised that even that small change may have made all the difference.

He saw a woman hobble towards Rick, her back stooped with age. 'Were you straight with us, sir?' she asked without preamble. 'Do you mean us no harm – even after how we treated you?'

Daryl snapped his eyes over to Rick. If ever he needed his old friend to be the bullish, arrogant blowhard that he had come to know, it was now.

'I was straight with you.' Rick addressed all the women. 'We mean you no harm.'

There was a rumble of discontent from somewhere among the rescuers, and above that, and audible hiss of relief – or perhaps disbelief – from the Harrowers. 'We want to live in peace with you.'

The elderly woman gripped his arm. 'Then stay here with us. This is good land with clean water nearby. We can grow crops and raise animals. We can protect each other.'

Daryl knew the hidden meaning behind her words – she was begging for protection from the Harrowers. He felt a sudden pang of regret when he realised that they were abandoning the innocent women to retribution for their surrender.

'That's not possible,' Rick replied. 'This valley isn't defensible. We snuck up on you in broad daylight, and believe me, there are much worse people out there than us.'

'So what – we just leave?'

Daryl recognised the voice of Seb, a carpenter from Fort Sophia who had lost his best friend Bill in the attack. 'We rescued you from these murderers, and you just let them go unpunished?'

Voices raised in agreement, and Daryl knew that before long, they would become vociferous, howling for blood. Something would have to happen – someone would have to do something to stop them.

And then he realised that there was only one person who could stop this. Once upon a time, back in Sunday school, Mrs. Phillips told him the story of the Sin Eater. The Sin Eater took on the transgressions of a community – consuming of the ugliness. He made a sacrifice for the greater good.

And then he saw the gun in Rick's hand and the look of grief in his eyes and instantly knew what was about to happen.

Rick raised his voice so that everyone could hear. 'In the name of the people of Alexandria and the federated settlements of the southern states, I find you guilty of murder in contravention of common law. I hereby pronounced a sentence on death on you, Cheryl. If you have any final words, speak them now.'

As he held the gun to Cheryl's temple, he looked from Daryl to Carol, from Michonne to Carl. He silently challenged each of them – begged them – to object – to save him from what he knew he must do.

Daryl knew that Rick was trapped – that he had started down a path of no return. He needed to show that he would not allow the Harrowers to go unpunished, but in doing so he was going back on his promise to spare them from further violence. He was turning back into the ruthless version of himself that he despised.

At the same time, Daryl knew that he was protecting them, just like he always had, which was why he didn't make a move to stop him as he pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot reverberated around the valley and a hundred faces reacted with shock as Cheryl slumped face-first in the dust.

* * *

The convoy moved out of the valley at sunrise. Rick watched the countryside flash past with a sense of quiet dread and foreboding. He thought that he had washed his sins away in the valley. He had been foolish enough to think that his confession had erased all the wrongs he had caused. He had thought they could move forward and live free from all the pain of the past. More than that, he had hoped that Daryl and Carol and all the people who had suffered by his actions would hear his words and believe that they came from the heart.

All of that was wiped away the moment he killed Cheryl.

He noticed that the mood of the assembled group had changed – the tension dissolved and was replaced by a nervousness that was all too familiar to him. They were afraid of him, and he liked that. He knew that they liked it too – they had needed someone to do the unthinkable in that moment.

They had confiscated all of the women's weapons – aside from knives and side-arms – and their vehicles had been commandeered. When they left, their spirits were high and Rick felt a wave of optimism sweep over the entire convoy. He wished he could join them in their jubilation, but he felt sick inside and filled with a sense of unease that he could not shake off.

It was something akin to fear – that old enemy that he thought he had defeated forever. It invaded his body like cancer, robbing him of the arrogated self-belief that he mistook for peace of mind. He shuddered as he recalled the last time he had felt this way – it was that horrible night all those years ago when Negan introduced himself.

For the first time since then, Rick allowed himself to relive the utter humiliation and terror that Negan made him feel. His heartrate escalated and a cold sweat broke out all over as the adrenaline pumped through him, and for a moment he wondered if he was about to have a heart attack. He was suddenly flooded with all of the intense emotions that he had suppressed for so long. More than anything, he remembered the sense of violation that he had experienced that night. Everything he knew about himself – everything he held as sacred – was stripped away.

He had failed to protect his people. He had failed to save Glenn.

He had sworn never again to feel what he had felt that night, and everything that had happened since was a product of that decision.

The panic began to slowly drain away and he was left with a profound sense of regret. He turned his head and stared out of the passenger window so that Abraham would not see the tears gathering in his eyes. He had no idea what the future was going to bring – all he knew was that what had happened in the past few days had changed him forever.

He breathed deeply, drying to calm himself down, and that was when he smelled something rotten on the air. It was an overpowering sickly-sweet stench that was once all-too familiar to him. The moment his brain registered the truth, he saw the convoy grind to a halt ahead of him.

'Smell that?'

Rick could see the tension in the other man's posture. 'Uh-huh.'

'That there is a fair-sized herd a' Walkers, like of which I ain't smelled these ten years.'

Rick opened the door and climbed out, seeing anxiety written in the faces of the passengers of the convoy. He glanced at Carl, seated high stop his horse and smiled reassuringly, despite the creeping fear that gnawed at his bones.

Michonne climbed from the cab of her truck, her shoulders set with determination. 'That what I think it is?'

Rick nodded tersely and glanced upward, spotting Daryl slowly climbing the gentle slope of the valley on his motorcycle. 'Try and keep people calm. I'm gonna get a better view.'

He clambered up the rocks, feeling the ache of rheumatism in the shoulder as a sharp reminder of his age. When he finally reached the top, he found Daryl waiting there with a look of fierce concentration on his face. He stood beside the other man and stared out over the landscape, and what he saw nearly made his heart stop.

A sea of Walkers spanned the horizon. He silently cursed his own negligence – after years without a major incident, he had concluded that the Walkers had either been hunted to extinction or fled the southern states.

'Where the hell did they all come from?' he breathed.

'Dunno,' Daryl murmured. 'Haven't seen half so many since we left Alexandria. Think the drought musta drawn 'em together, made 'em wander.'

Rick turned to his old comrade. 'Think we can escape 'em?'

'Probably. If we turn south, we might be able to skirt around 'em. But that won't stop 'em from heading straight down the valley.'

A vindictive thought entered Rick's mind: _Let 'em_ , he thought. Let the Harrowers get a taste of terror for once. The moment the words flitted through his mind, he knew that he could not let that happen.

'So what do we do?'

Daryl fixed him with a challenging stare. 'You're the man with the plan – you figure it out.'

Rick's brain ticked over, the disparate elements of a strategy coming together. 'We send out your men on horseback – they'll divide the herd into smaller groups. They can try and split the herd in two and send one group north. Then we'll focus on keeping the other group away from the valley. We use the fire truck on them, burn them up and finish off any stragglers.'

Daryl stroked his chin thoughtfully. 'That's hopin' we manage to split them off. Meantime, we should send a car back down the valley to warn the women to get outta there just in case.'

Rick recognised the dark implication in his words. He realised that even with their numbers, their chances of defeating a herd of Walkers were not very good. At the same time, he felt that this was the culmination of something – that he was finally coming face to face with an enemy that he had shirked for far too long.

He looked down and saw Daryl's outstretched hand and grabbed it firmly. 'Let's do this.'


End file.
